A Forte of Darkness[Tyrant/Forte]

[Pyrrhüloxia]

<sub>The Wild Canyons, a scenic place of breathtaking beauty. The flat topped, table-like cliffs with their dead drop faces and red soil, closely rose hundreds of feet, towering over the veins of valley floor that weaved between these monstrous abnormalities of nature. Sparse brush and patches of foliage adorned the tops of the mostly bare canyons, there were few ways to reach the tops of some, however, for any equine and any mortal, to stand on them was not only an exhilarating experience, but also a risk. Their drops cannot be seen when each cliff top so closely resembles another, making the world of canyon-tops appear more like an endless stretching desert wasteland. In the narrow stretches of valley, nothing but knee length grass and small copses of pines beautify the surroundings. In winter though, it was reasonably spring looking here, but as night drew closer, the winter nights would freeze everything, even covering this arid land with blankets of snow before the next sunrise when it would melt and feed the plants. These were the canyon lands of Sobibor, and it was Darkness' first visit here. He found the place despicably forlorn and ugly, but that was him, and he preferred the most evil wrought lands one could ever find.
---
Cresting the curvature of a hill, rising as a stately dark mass over the mostly flat terrain, Fear of Darkness scanned the horizon with his blood red eyes; searching the grasses for any life. As King of Eerie Caverns and soon to be more land, it was his job to make the population in his herd grow in number and strength. He'd heard rumors that horses loved to visit this area. Good brutes could be found, and that is what he needed. Watching the lengthy grasses ripple in wave-like fashions under the strong influence of the cold winter wind, and allowing them to caress his long, chiseled legs; the ebony brute with his sleek, lifeless coat thought he caught the scent of another being in the near distance. The only problem was, the scent of was of a female.

Both delicately curved ears swiveled this way and that, attempting to pick up any inclination of the presence's movements. Must not be too close. Straightening his form and allowing his tangled forelock to conceal his crimson pools, Darkness broke into a trot; his ghostly gait, unnaturally smooth along with enormous sweeping strides; it was a stylish, high-knee jog intimidating as it was intriguingly lovely. Somehow the trot put less weight into each step, which also made him eerily quiet. And with one with such over-sized hooves as his own, it was no wonder back in his homeland he was nicknamed, “Wraith” by young foals. Ah, the memory of such past times forced a smirk to tug at the corners of his lips as he drifting over the landscape.

Closer came the scent, he could get a better picture of what this female might look like. Her scent was clean and a mix of flowery smells with the smell of grass. Darkness on the other hand, had the vague scent of sulfur that still desperately clung to his coat, but rising above that was the grotesque smell of decay. Blood that splashes his ebony hide is never thoroughly cleaned off and eventually wreaks. Thus his title, The Maggot Lord, comes into effect. He is a king of maggots, vile things and evil. Just like Satan. And he prides himself in the way others look down upon him and his title, it just makes it all the more pleasing when they are caught alone and he can torture them as so many others have been tortured gruesomely by his hand. He is a ruthless character, when both leading and alone.

Darkness halted, head raising and nostrils flaring to sniff the chill air. Perhaps he had passed the lady. Hm, no matter, he would wait for her to show herself. And despite the hunger that grew within his belly, it would be wise to refrain from devouring flesh and blood in the presence of another. That could bode less than well as a first impression. He would dine on the grass, for appearance's sake, unfortunately, it would most likely sicken him, or rot in his stomach. All his life he'd eaten meat, he was not about to change his diet for a mare.</sub>

[tyrant]

(( take your time, ))

[tyrant]

>> Forte >>

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Hello Little Boys, Little Toys. We're the dreams you're believing.

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>> Canyons of tawny cascaded down both sides. A river of caramel and tans shooting and spurting up, trapping whomever it caught between its large faces. Ruddy colors mixed with sandy grains to form an unpenetrable fortress, daunting to even the most daring of creatures. Color scheme of light browns, tans, and even yellows blended into one another-- only stood out by flashes of inflicted red upon the sand walls, or brilliant green from a patch of fortunate and blessed vegetation. Amongst the brilliant green and the light sandy tones, a conflicting two-toned beast stood--throwing the once-balanced landscape asque. [/size]

>> A deep-colored figure, though not so much black as deep brunette, stood like a ghost against the gritty north wall of the canyon. Nestled in the valley, from a distance she looked almost surreal. An eyesore to the valley's desert-theme, but a gracious break to those whose eyes grew weary of the bland estate. Thus, Forte stood like a single ominous dark cloud against a clear sky, or an exotic oasis in the midst of a desert. An oasis whose scent was refreshing and crisp, a cloud whose claps of chaotic thunder and cold rain was welcomed. [/size]

>> Long, lean legs were as stilts to hold up such a feminine yet athletic frame. They stretched and relaxed to bring her walking in an easy, slow gait. Deep bay breast, toned but desirable, swelled only to expell the breath she held onto. Her neck naturally curved, thick, and shapely, noble head still holding the lively and lovely shape of a young filly-- probably once a westernized human's fantasy-- for all her movements were proportionate and smooth. Spine long and curved in feminine and sensual proportion. In a one-toned schemata, the caynon's belly, Forte held independance. Upon the curved rump, toned and unmarked by any beast, was a blanket of white that spashed in beautiful mess across the small of her back and her mid-belly. Some of the white splashed upon her legs. Some upon her underbelly. It was not symetrical, it was not perfect. However, it was made beautiful and by the eerie black holes peirced and branded into the white blanket. An appaloosa indeed. An oddity, an eye-catcher, a lovely specimen. [/size]

>> Nostrils flared as a scent filled them, tickling her senses. Stopping her slow gait to raise her head high, her ears swiveled forward to listen. It was forgein musk to her-- not someone she knew. However, that was to be expected. The young mare did not know anyone in these parts. In fact, she had just stumbled upon this land about four days ago. It did not seem like a wonderful place, but it did not seem like a horrible place either. Fact was, Forte did not really care at the moment. She had no real preference as to what the inhabitants of this land were like. Forte was here to excell. This would take place no matter what the company was like; bitter or gentle, harsh or soft. Again, the scent was breathed in. Musky and dark, slightly sulfuric and bitter. It was concluded stallion, and Forte gave a short sigh of slight annoyance. Black flint hooves turned to face the oncoming scent, perfectly rounded rump turning from where she determined this stag to meet her. Not that Forte was one of those feminist faes-- those who hate stallions yet find them every time they step, and are a b.tch just to be one. Quite the contrary. No, Forte has class. Forte has taste. Furthermore, Forte has intellegence. It was just that she could not see where this stag was. Yes, Forte would take a stag over a mare anyday. Except for those days she was frisky and the wild, hot blood ran especially thick through her veins. [/size]

>> A snort cleared her nose of the increasingly sour smell. It was not displeasing or offensive in the least, but getting old for her, stealing the smells of other things. In fact, the musky stench was kind of nice. When the stag did not show himself readily, Forte's ears flicked back and forth, searching for the sound of him. Mismatched eyes pulled apart the valley she was in. The scent of the stag must be lingering from atop her. Pillars extended and carried the long and lean female across the bottom of the basin. A slow trot. One that lifted her black tail in flight, as a banner, as a independant spirit. As one could watch and witness this ghostly-dark figure against the tawny wall-- a splash of black and white against sand-- one could see there was more to this fae than simply the lovely stature and stately presence. An eerie dominion creeped before her, a warning, and a fearful relief flowed from after her-- spared from disaster.[/size]

>> Finally, after a few moments, the lovely equine broke the surface. As she expected, it was much duller up here than down in the caynon. Mismatched eyes of russet and glassy blue met the large, terrible figure of the brute. He was spread to the side of her, picking gingerly at the long grass. And she, in her exotic glory, watched him straight on. Ears did not flick backwards in a second-guessing posture, nor did she lower her poll in a slave-like fashion. Though she bore the titile of a free-roamer, she had the black domineering heart of a master. Curious and fiesty eyes lingered over this brute's build. He, certainly he, was as useful as he looked. [/blockquote][/size]

S T A T U S completed
A N T I C I P A T E D ----
W O R D C O U N T 1083
C R E D I T Tyrant (author), "Le Disko" Shiny Toy Guns (lyrics under banner)
O O C :/ mehh....not too pleased with this post. However, I AM excited about what is to unfold. Your Darkness exceeds my expectations. Hopefully, Forte will be able to prove to be a good investment of your time.

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[Pyrrhüloxia]

Fear of Darkness
'Sticks and stones can't break my bones, and love shalt never harm me...'

For many a long moment the handsome beast browsed the grass, finding not one sole blade to his liking. Out of boredom he raised his noble roman skull, adorned with the fine features of his face, and twisted his neck to stare in disinterest at the female who finally decided to bring herself out of concealment. The stallion, with his ripped obsidian body, bulging shoulders and chest, impressively curved crest and devilish gaze; fiery vermilion against solid charcoal, hidden by a parted shadowy forelock; held a regal stance of the highest order. He was born with this stance, born with his heavy build. Although, where Fear of Darkness hailed from, he was considered short for his breed. Towering over all else at eighteen hands high, he was measly compared to the colossal full blood shires of home.

Sable nares stretched slightly to inhale the crisp air, when his lungs expelled it back, steam rose from them. It was a desert region, but winter had firmly grasped this area until the flaming sun raised herself directly over this green stream amongst rusted rock wall structures. Scrutinizing this foreign female with a critical gaze, Darkness came to a sudden conclusion. Tossing his thickly curled forelock off over his right eye, the stallion allowed his left crimson ocular to burn into the newcomer's own pools. His stony expression drew discomfort from every direction. Finally, he spoke.

"Greetings," sullen, thunderous vocals rumbled out vehemently. They hinted profoundly towards the stag's expertly hidden nature. Only his scarred up, sinister countenance and domineering mannerisms revealed more to be his ghastly persona. Unfathomably cruel and sinful. "Be there something you wish, darling?" Darkness asked the mare, deceitfully calm and collected. Having reverted back to old ways after the death of Amaryllis, a new, improved Darkness, twisted into every word describing evil, presented himself before the youthful 'feature' standing in the wide open. An amorous eye traced the contours of Forte's face from her mouth to her softly rounded rump, where he lecherously ogled the satin smooth disks littered across a splash of alabaster heaven.

Removing the stare to return his solemn speculation of keen, intelligent eyes; he swung muscular hips around to face Forte head on, standing squarely upon dense boned, puissant pistons, lengthy as any thoroughbreds. Darkness awaited the mare's response with outward patience. Inwardly his impatient heart yearned to do something drastic. Ever since the birth of his last daughter he had found his heart to be angrier, more lust filled and eager; bent solely upon the pain of strictly females. Their suffering made him feel better about himself. About what he almost become.

However, the small lady standing just ahead, just within killing distance, appeared the arrogant type. The type that would resist his charming acts as folly, taking him to be 'just like any other stallion'. Darkness was anything but any other stallion. Any other stallion was a beef-headed moron out for a mare's pleasures, not their pain. Any other stallion wished to settle down after a long youth of chasing girls and spreading their genes; not corrupt the lives of others. Bluntly, any other stallion was not The Maggot Lord. And The Maggot Lord was not to be contended with as 'any other stallion'. It was different with females unfortunately. They were either moody, belligerent creatures with a lot to say but little to prove or soft-spoken pushovers with little to say AND little to prove. Whether or not the present girl would be different, well, that was up to her, wasn't it?

Status// Complete
Word Count// 600
Notes// Every role play I'm involved in usually is, only because I enjoy role playing so much.^^ Btw, your post was so much better than mine. >.o I require improvement, lol.

[tyrant]

>> Forte >>

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I laugh with disdain: "You wish."

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>> Forte watched as eyes of the masculine beast before her scruntinized her figure. Ah, so he was one of those types of male specimen. Lusty, dark, devilish, good-for-nothing-but-s.x kind of stallions. Ears slide backwards a bit, in annoyance at his glances. What? Did he expect her to turn her rump around right there and plead, " mount me! O great stallion?!" Hell no. His empty eyes looked at her with a mixture of boredom and distaste. Mismatched eyes blinked at him, narrowing at his glances. She was no usual mare. [/size]

>> However, the lovely equine could not help but gaze over the size of the mammoth before her. Big, black, and halfhearted-- she concluded. This steed had seen his fair share of days, stuck his business in other mares, and had come out reletively unscathed. Physically, that is. Heh. Just what Forte needed-- a mentally unstable stallion. Turning her body to get a better look at him, her elongated spine sensually curving in nature posture. Cocking a hind foot, she stood relaxed and unmoved by this male. He was nothing special to her, at least not yet. He would, if he could, s.x her and then be gone with it. Beat her, then leave her. Attack her, then claim her to die and rot in his prison. Were all males this bland? Black, big, and lusty? [/size]

>> However, he spoke. This was expected, as he stared blankly at her as a cow would a post. The second best thing to do after ignorantly staring at someone for an unusual amount of time would be to open those flabby lips and let your tongue dance. At his greetings Forte nodded her noble head that was held high. It was a curt nod, a simple gesture for him to take with a grain of salt. She knew he would have no problem in doing so. By his critical glance, he'd "been there and done that" possibly a thousand times. Whats a virgin to him anymore? What's a possibly intellegent, possibly great, and possibly the next leader to corrupt and lead a massive revolt going to matter to him? [/size]

>> One eye glass, the other stone, looked at him as he asked her a question. An obvious question. A STUPID question. However, upon her visage and in her countenance she held no such outward support to the cloud of doubtful critics in her mind. Taking a breath, a smirk curled her lips. It was an ever offensive smirk; a smirk reminding others that she knew things they did not. A smirk mysterious and undignifying even the most confident of speakers.
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" Oh wouldn't you like there to be, my lord?"[/size][/color]

Forte spat, most sarcastic, but with a polite and formal ending. Her speech was twisted and difficult to tell the meaning

" Would it not just wipe that dull look of your face if there was such a need that I would be bringing to you? Don't we all simply want to be wanted oftentimes?"[/color]
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>> A chuckle rose in her throat and she stepped a bit nearer, challenging his space. Her pitch lowered into a sensual and confident range. Like low rumbles of thunder; welcomed and yet feared. [/size]

" No, my lord, there is nothing you can do for me-- be it wish or need."

>> Forte looked him over. It was her turn to scrutinize the stallion. She had little confidence in his rather dead frame. Besides anger, she felt no life or passion. Those things ran hot in her blood. Young, vivid, and fervent about goals. Not lurid, lethargic, and holder of pent-up explosive anger. Eyes softened in mockery; a pity for the poor dear. She was not TRYING to start trouble. Looking over his large stature and grandous hooves, thick muscles, and heavy gut, a smirk curled her lips once more. However, she COULD outrun him if trouble arose. [/blockquote][/size][/color]

S T A T U S completed
A N T I C I P A T E D ----
W O R D C O U N T 853
C R E D I T Tyrant (author)
O O C I want Forte to be apart of something, not just a mare that winds up in breeding grounds just to be apart of the RP....I dream that she'd be apart of something greater.... Like, start a war, etc. haha...I like BEING things in Rpgs. Notorious for something.

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[Pyrrhüloxia]

Fear of Darkness
'You've drawn the wrong card, now it's my turn.'

Her words were blatantly ignorant. Just as he thought, another foolish mare thinking herself all that. She probably thought he was after her too now, huh? Just like a mare to think like that. Deep down inside, they really liked that stuff. Love to be ogled by stallions great and small. Bah! What a waste. Darkness' ears flipped back a ways as he lifted his snout into a prideful position, staring at the ego wrought mare with a dangerous eye.

"It be neither wish nor need, my Lady. I do not require nor want your 'services', it was merely a polite question. You cannot expect one such as myself to be stared at without answers. In turn you would be furious to have myself sneak up upon you and ogle your precious areas. Though I am not saying you have done that to me, it is still rude to glare so judgmentally at someone minding their own busyness." the sable stallion told Forte indignantly. My, my, what a little wh*re. Truly Darkness did not know how to take her. True, she was just like anyone else, snobby, arrogant, a little brat thinking she has everything under control. Funny.

Fear of Darkness lowered his muzzle, chortling at his own thoughts as his great roman skull shook with impatience. Craning his neck he nipped at the grass heads, chewing ever so softly on their tenderness. Their deeply bitter flavor made him wince then eventually spit them out, only to repeat the process. No, he wasn't hungry too much, just idly thinking whilst doing something. As long as he didn't have to get physical just yet, chewing grass heads would suffice. After a moments pause, Darkness lifted his crania, giving a sidelong glance the mare's direction as if to say, 'Oh, you're still here?'

It was in that instant that anger grew in his black heart. Tortuously slow at first, then blazing into a full on fire. She was so infuriating! It wasn't that her words just sunk in, it was the fact they were said at all and Darkness had a terrible time holding back anger. The masculine brute stared straight on, refusing to give heed to Forte's presence at all. He spoke as though to the air.

"I bet you think pretty highly of yourself, no? You think yourself different, better than others, especially stallions like myself. Well, here is some news for you, honey, no one is different. We are all alike; I am not your regular stallion, no, I am your above average stallion. I think, if you persist in speaking with me, you will find that out soon enough. However, above average is not as rare as it sounds, or is. I am sure a good deal of others think themselves my equal. Just as you think yourself my better, as every mare I have ever met does." Darkness snorted audibly. An irritated tail whisked through the grass. Letting another moment pass, the stag inhaled sharply, looking at the female. "Putting differences and alikeness's aside, let me introduce myself, it would be rude not too, no? I am Fear of Darkness, might I request your calling, lady?"

His vocals held a hint of bitterness in the words. Being in absolutely no mood for games, things were growing exceedingly serious. Perhaps just for the fun of it he'd claim her? If she came willingly that is. Being of the belligerent group of mare though, she would most assuredly put up a fight. Ah, nonetheless, if she ran, he would catch her. Descending from genes suffering from centuries of perfection from mutation, Darkness was faster than most equines first realized. Foolish it would be to run from the Prince of Darkness, most foolish.

Regarding the lady with naught but an insidious aura radiating from his very being, the Maggot Lord's face became grim, no longer expressionless, but filled with a look of anger and deep hurt. A hurt that secretly kept its place in the fibers of his heart. The stallion knew not the pains that subtly showed on his face, neither did he care. All that mattered at this time was learning the mare's name before divulging into deeper matters. Less trivial matters.
---
Status// Complete

Word Count// 743

Notes// Darkness doesn't breed mares, at least, not often, not anymore. He either beats them or claims them depending on their worth, lol. He's gone through a harsh time recently and has reverted to how he once was. Basically, this is the 'old' Darkness Forte is with, he was softening and I didn't like that. =X

So, by 'being' something, do you want him to claim her into his army, or rather, you want her to be against him? Cause I'm a little confused at that part. >.o

[tyrant]

>> Forte >>

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A schemata staring in the face of another schemata. Interesting.

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>> There was a slight pause between the time she spoke and the brute before her gathered enough words to throw them back. He seemed baffled, angry, and a bit confused. Good. The brute's black ears melted back into his skull and he threw up his head. Letting him take the dominant posture, she left her head where it was. There was no strength to challenge here, nothing to "dominate" over in posture. He was male, she was female. He would not have her tossing her pretty head above him lest it be tossed in the air or held between his teeth. Forte stepped from her position slowly, though not hesitant. Her front legs brought her walking a step or two to her right, and she listened to this male's whining. A whine, indeed. Was he a yearling? Did she not answer him like he wanted to be answered? Poor baby. Someone with actual opinions spoke to him! A chuckle was stifled as he spoke about 'manners' and such. What a waste of her time. As if SHE was the one to throw a judgmental glance first, he was pouting about her cross glances. Her defense to his critical glares. What a sore loser. [/size]

>> Forte let her odd eyes soften, as though she were feeling bad for her actions. Lowering her head to the ground, letting her chin brush the top of the emerald blades, a direct color contrast between green and brown, she crooned. Eyes flickering up whilst head still greeted the ground, amused eyes toyed. Her sweet voice thick like molasses but biting as a viper. [/size]

" Terribly sorry, my lord, for casting an unkind gaze upon your apparent glorious hide. May I now be seen as more kind in your sight? For I can tell by looking at you, YOU are a steed of valor and righteousness. Goodness and fairness, kindness and purity, are held in high honor to you."[/size][/color]

>> Raising her head, she watched him for any attacks. Was the reprimand Forte day? For simply returning a glance that was given? Forte's head turned from the beast as his head lowered to chomp at the grass. However, as he proceeded to spit them out, she looked back. Tilting her head, she furrowed her pretty brow. Without much thought, the words spit out, [/size]

" Why do you do that? Eat the grass only to spit it out? " [/color]
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>> Her words were not unkind, nor sarcastic. A glint of humane curiosity flashed in her mismatched, exotic eyes. He was so curious, and yet at the same time, so familiar. A schemata, a stereotype of what a male should be. Big, black, and lusty. Yet he spoke again, and the small crack in a black window revealing a brilliant peice of sunlight, the ray of hope that he was something more, was covered with black duct tape. Hopeless.

--"I bet you think pretty highly of yourself, no? You think yourself different, better than others, especially stallions like myself. Well, here is some news for you, honey, no one is different. We are all alike; I am not your regular stallion, no, I am your above average stallion. I think, if you persist in speaking with me, you will find that out soon enough. However, above average is not as rare as it sounds, or is. I am sure a good deal of others think themselves my equal. Just as you think yourself my better, as every mare I have ever met does."--

Forte stared at him in disbelief. Did the brute just tell her that he was, indeed, an “above average” stallion? Did he just JUSTIFY himself, ADORN himself, PRAISE himself? Egotistical, me thinks. A look of amusement cast over her face as he, yet again, reprimanded her. Motherly, too. Rolling her shoulders, flexing breast and leg muscles to catch the sunlight and cast steam into the air about them, she simply stated.

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" Well, you think very highly of yourself now, too. Why point out my confidence and chide my pride when you now tell me how “above average“ you are? It does not readily make sense; scolding MY pride, but praising yours. I always thought that if something was true-- especially self worth-- that one need not announce it, but let it be experienced….."[/size] Forte shrugged, " But what do I know? I‘m simply the incarnation of every mare you‘ve ever met….. Or so you judge."[/size]

>> She said nothing more after that. Watching his angry countenance for a sign of hostility, she heard his efforts to “make nice” with her. A smile broke beautifully across her lovely lips. His name was interesting and curious. Was HE afraid of darkness, or was HE the fear that darkness brought. Nevertheless, Forte nodded and spoke with confidence, ignoring the slight stab of sarcasm at the end.[/size]

” I am Forte. What a clever name you possess, my lord, Fear of Darkness.[/b][/blockquote]

S T A T U S completed
A N T I C I P A T E D 1076
W O R D C O U N T
C R E D I T Tyrant (author)
O O C Ohhhh I wasn‘t ASKING anything XD. Just telling you, lol, I dunno. I just want her to be different and a key to something big. Lol. Whatever you see fit. I think Darkness and Forte could do some great things together. Claim a bunch of random, active, and successful equines. Have a successful herd-- then declare some sort of war. Or, something. XD I‘m just tired of this “peaceful“ time.

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[Pyrrhüloxia]

Fear of Darkness
'Not every word spoken is truth, nor is it a lie.'

As Forte spoke her words, her immaturity shown through brightly. Though she was an intelligent lass, with usually some astute judgments, she lacked noticing the obvious. Ignoring her name, Darkness decided to give what she was missing. What she mistook as placing himself upon a pedestal was not that in the least. Spitting the few leaves of grass still clinging between his blood stained teeth out, the stallion spoke again, one ear swiveling forwards to listen to mare's answer better.

"My dear, just so you know, considering yourself to be "above average" is not something prideful to say about oneself. Truly you should think things thoroughly before speaking. But you are young, and I understand. Now, what was meant by my statement, was simply, I am not the type of stallion who will chase every mare he comes across in the hopes of breeding them. I am not some knuckle-head fool who strives for woman's pleasures and the like. I am not that at all. And saying that neither raises nor lowers my self-esteem in any way, it is just the way I am." he shook his head diligently, scaring away the flies that attempted to huddle around bright pools.

After settling down, his gaze accidentally swept over her burnished body in one long sweeping motion. She was undeniably beautiful for such a young lady; her muscles were exquisitely toned from her white powdered thighs to the bands of muscle within an elegant neck. She was an exotic beauty, ravishingly so. Her impressive self was something that would eagerly be added to the ranks of his army. Although the thought of a mare in his army sounded a tad unusual and different, with proper training she could fight.

Darkness' eyes turned willingly away to stare at the distant canyon looming overhead. That is all she would ever be to him, a tool among his ranks. At least, that is what he told himself, what he alway told himself since that fateful day in the birthing caverns. A shiver tingled down his back, reminding the stag of the other presence before he drifted off into imagination.

"Hm, Forte. An interesting name in itself. To start a more personal subject, however, I suppose giving an explanation of my atypical name might fill any curiosity you may withhold. Indeed, my mother was a clever mare, my first name is Fear, my title is Darkness. The title is handed down from each firstborn in the Darkness family. My granddam disapproved of the name, thinking it disgraceful one of our family should fear the dark. Unless you have already figured it out, which I expect one like you should have, then you know it does not mean I fear the dark. Yet again I waste my time speaking only of myself, of course I do it for your sake since you seem to hold an inquisitive mind. So I shall get it out whilst I can," Darkness' stern eyes shot towards Forte, burning into her oculars harshly.

"I am a carnivore, a cannibal and a master in the arts of torture. Now that those three things are out of the way, shall we continue our battle of wits or do you wish to follow down this path of first getting to know each other a bit better?"

Anger was in his eyes, all it seemed he was built up of was anger. The mixture of wrath and hurt on his handsome face ran deep, hiding the fact he might hold other emotions. This might seem foolish to some, to be made of anger and never feel anything other than that. Nonetheless, it suited him fine, what with the type of raising he endured as a newborn growing up. Having lived in such a dangerous territory for so long, and then being exiled to a world like this, filled with abundant greenery and verdant landscapes. No wonder he was always angry. Besides, he couldn't boast such things as being loved. E-tsi claimed to love him, but to this dark stallion, it only seemed lust tugged at her heart. Only moon loved him the right way. Ah, those memories ran too deep though, back to when he was new to the concept of plants, insects and other species of wildlife.

Continuing to stare into Forte's eyes, he awaited her answer with new patience. Not one hint of deception in the air from either. Not yet anyway... perhaps this Forte held some secrets up her sleeves he hadn't quite caught on to yet? We shall see.

Status// Complete
Word Count// 766
Notes// Ah, okey doke n.n Was just making sure. Well, Darkness is starting an army, its for a plot outside Sobibor, though she can be a part of that. I'm writing a book about Darkness' travels and it involves an army. Only if you want, I can try and find a good position for Forte, a noticeable one, lol. One that could make her infamous or at least well known. =D

[tyrant]

>> Forte >>

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Why so serious?

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>> The anger that radiated off of this brute was daunting. Daunting--not frightening. Forte could not help but imagine what kind of situation could drive a stallion to this point? In his eyes she saw three things; rage, anger, and sorrow. The sorrow and guilt, the shame and hurt was hidden under layers of callused anger and rage. Looking inside herself, there was none such there. Not that she was an untarnished soul or a perfectly happy individual, Forte had just grown to accept what happened to her. In her opinion, you can choose to be bitter, or be better. Forte chose to be better.[/size]

>> Looking at him, she could tell he was chastising her age. Call it discernment, but Forte could read most people in definite accuracy. A psychologist, indeed. A mind-player, indeed. An insanity-inducing individual, most indeed. However, Forte‘s maliciousness was left in the bile of her gut as he spit out words again. He truly did struggle great for others to see him in good light. He truly did wish for others to think highly of him. Perhaps that was because he thought very low of himself, deep down. In others, he gained confidence and acceptance. The poor dear Forte was fortunate to be young. Young enough to not know from experience the harsh, cold, and often destroying battles of life. She was young, reckless, and passionate. However, of all these things-- she was NOT naïve. Bobbing her lovely head, she gave him a smile. It was sincere. It was even-tempered. It was hopeful. Possibly, too sincere, too even-tempered, too hopeful. Would he second guess her motives?[/size]

" I sure hope what you boast is truth, my lord, Fear of Darkness. "[/size][/color]

>> Forte‘s voice cascaded down the imaginary forces of air and disappeared. It was soft and gentle. Watching him, she caught his glance bathe over her bodice. However, instead of letting her ears cling to her skull in belligerent anger at his lechery, Forte merely smirked. And when his eyes met hers, they held the spark. Let him look. It did no difference but stroked an ego, raised the confidence, made the heart skip a beat. Listening to his speech about his name, he grumped about how boring he must be and how aloof she must be. Nothing was said, but her ears perked with interest. He was a fellow with history, with meaning, with depth. His name was something meaningful and prophetic. Nothing like the likes of her. She was meant to be nothing, and likewise was named nothing. Even though she legally was the heir to her clan, the Alphess’ daughter, she was an illegitimate child. Born to die unjustified. What a depressing thought.
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" I do enjoy hearing of yourself, however, my lord." [/color]
[/size]

>> She encouraged. However his angry eyes shot and met hers, making her round her chest towards him in a sort of challenging pose. They were drilling into her own, trying to find weakness. As he spat out his confession of being a cannibal, Forte’s glance did not change. His torturing vice did not spell out her demise in any way. What an odd character. A flight creature, an equine, performing the predatory acts. Interesting, indeed. A soft sigh escaped her mouth and she walked a bit closer to him, and then directly past him. Though she walked close enough for him to kick or bite her, or perhaps run a muzzle down her spine or enjoy her fragrance, she did not touch him nor expect him to. There was not an outward, obvious flirtatious goal to her smooth gait by him. She was a mystery. Her intentions undetectable. Looking over her shoulder as she just moved out of reach of his grasp or kick, about eight feet away, she nickered to him. Mismatched eyes, odd but lovely, spoke of her humor and sarcasm.



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" Well, though I do enjoy a good battle every now and then, especially a battle of wits…….I would be most satisfied to crawl into the minds of each other. You seem interesting enough.” [/size]

>> Her cool, calm demeanor clashed directly with this brute‘s angry soul. Like ice to fire, they were. Both dangerous, both deadly when ill-tempered. Both could destroy one another. Both could destroy life. However, as ice could cool the heat of the fire, and as fire could warm the ice, they were matched well. As fire could aid and bring life to others, and ice, when used with fire, used to preserve life-- so could these two different equines could be. However, Forte did not think of these things and neither did common sense.[/size]

S T A T U S completed
A N T I C I P A T E D 996
W O R D C O U N T
C R E D I T Tyrant (author)
O O C Hmm…whatever works. Anyways, I’ve got a new stallion ( Leeland--check bio) who could be PERFECT in the opposing army. Check him out. Him and Darkness could be total enemies….it would be awesome. I’m going to try to win a territory, or something, to get him able to claim mares and such. what you think??

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[Pyrrhüloxia]

Fear of Darkness
'I'll leave out the details for you, honey'

She was so irksome this fae. What with her petite head held high and her walk so elegantly defined. Her life must have been perfect compared to his. She knew not the horrors he had seen, the horrors he grew up with. The sins he had committed. Her own crimes came not close to his, not at all...

As Forte drew near, taking her path past him, Darkness turned away and sauntered further into the basin of the valley. Not too far, he was still relatively close, it was just, he felt so uncomfortable around this filly. He wanted to hurt her, mangle her tender flesh and feel her warm life blood wash over his tongue, leaving that oh so subtle coppery taste at the back of his mouth. He wanted these things, always. Forte did not know of the danger she actually put herself in by being close to him. Nor did she seem to care. But she didn't know. Her words fell strangely, at first it seemed all she wanted was to have a verbal fight, now she enjoyed listening about him? Peculiar indeed, but he would fall for it, for now. Perhaps she would learn not to tamper with the devil's subjects.

Whirling on a dime to face the spotted lady, he could not help but sneer just a bit before speaking his mind. "I confess you bewilder me a bit, but not at all are my defenses down, Forte. I in turn would not mind learning more of your past and likes or dislikes, save, I have little time to converse on the subject. If you so wish it though, I can shirk my duties as sovereign over my lands and engage in idle prattle."

As if he did anything else. When not beating his followers or performing some other nefarious act, he commanded his most loyal to watch the herds for him whilst he enjoyed time to himself. Being the anti-social type, that is all he desired usually. Still the anger smoldered, could he find it in himself to share his torturous past with one so young? Darkness pondered the concept. She wouldn't understand his pain, not in the way he did, but perhaps, just maybe by chance, she would understand and keep away from him. See, while Fear of Darkness loved nothing better than to harm others and cause them pain (even foals), when a horse really understood him, enough to know his life was no joking matter, he preferred to leave them with that bit of trauma. It caused them pain on the inside, no? It caused Moon pain... so much pain.

Shaking his course, heavy mane, the midnight-hued stallion took minor steps closer towards this filly. She watched him with clever eyes, they showed no fear, no intimidation. So youthful and young they were. He was going to turn the thought aside, but persevered.

"I guess I shall begin then, a little bit of my past shouldn't be too much of an issue." the stag cleared his throat, finding his eyes wandering towards the surrounding grass and canyons walls to the overcast sky. It beat looking at something he wanted to maim. "I was born in lands far from this one. My lands are devoid of plants, forests and lakes. They are barren except for the shires and friesians that inhabit them. Bats reside in the caverns of the volcanoes that are sprinkled here and there though, they are the only other residents. My lands are termed, "The Badlands", for you anyway. Only Badlandian's are allowed to hear the true name for it. The earth there is red as blood, mingled with sulfer and ash. Ash is a big deal in my homelands, it always falls from the black clouds. And thunder rumbles the terrain as much as my people. Believe or not, twenty-one hands is not an uncommon sight for horses in my home. We are mutants, our genes have been corroded by centuries of living near radiation. That is why my eyes are red, why I bear no white markings and why my hooves are unusually big. I wont go anymore into this subject though, besides, a history lesson will merely chase you away, no?" Darkness chortled at his own joke. Continuing moments later, his expression became grim again.

"My father was a friesian, my mother a shire. Age of Darkness was my mother's name, she stood nineteen hands; my father? Sixteen point two. I killed my parents as a yearling and took over my father's herd. My granddam taught me how to fight, I was fighting in The Pit, killing fellow colts since six months of age. Everyday I fought, and no one beat me. Not one, until Sturge. But that's a different story completely."

Slowly the sullen master equine craned his neck yet again to nip the grass heads. As he spoke, the anger welled and he had to occupy himself whilst speaking. Those memories were only leading up to one moment. Bah! It made him so mad!

"At one year I deflowered my first eleven month old filly. The task was tedious, I much preferred beating the mare's at home. It was so much more fun to draw blood than give them pleasure... anyway, skipping ahead, at three I impregnated Hallowed Eve, or, more formerly known as Eve Royal." Fear of Darkness sneered even more, his lips curling sharply over yellow ivories stained by past victims. “I loathe her very name, she was a seductress, the most manipulative I have yet ever known. She only needed me for my offspring. When her father, the Eldest Elder, king of the Badlands, found out about her pregnancy... I left.” Darkness chewed harshly on the grass, spitting them out quickly before looking into the sky with the evil eye. Almost as if he wished his deadly gaze would drop the distant stallion king dead. It was amusing how he despised using the word exiled, since that is what actually happened.

“Bloody fool,” Darkness muttered in rage. The Maggot Lord was beginning to show himself quite vividly. His eyes always seemed to brighten, and his legs quivered whenever a rage like this swelled inside. Inhaling sharply, more was spoken. More of the ferociously deep vocals poured forth, decaying in the wind, leaving only more words in their wake. “Before entering The Badlands' neighboring province; forests, plants, mountains... all of this surrounding us was not known to me. I enjoyed making the delicate vegetation bleed. “The Softlands”, which is where I was, it too has a real name only known by residents; it was a cruel place. So cold and filled with pushover arabians. Stupid creatures, they think themselves so great and 'exotic'. I killed my fair share.”

“Ah, that is all for now. I have told you too much as it is. Go ahead and deal your opinion if you must, it will not bother me either way. Afterward though, I was hoping you could share a little bit of history about yourself. It would be rather interesting to hear the background of such a pretty creature. It is odd, in my opinion, to see someone so young to be wandering alone. Have you no herd?”

The great, black hellion snapped his end of the history swap closed as though he had reached a very mature part of the book. So abrupt was it, it wouldn't surprise him if Forte accused him of hiding something. Thinking a little ways back though, the way he described things, The Badlands was like a heaven. In his full opinion of course. He would return in time, with his army, and take back what was stolen. If only Forte and the others who dare mock him could accompany him. They would soon come to the dreaded realization that things in his homeland were not easy nor as 'lovely' as described. He sighed softly, daring not to let his inner thoughts glow from within shimmering eyes.

Status// Complete
Word Count// 1341 words
Notes// It's an awesome idea, however, that would mean three armies that Darkness has to contend with. It would be Leeland's army, The Rughn Army and the army of horses at his old homeland. The last two are the armies he meets in my book(s) after I'm finished rping him here on Sobibor. So, Leeland can totally oppose him and it'd be wicked awesome and epic! But, somehow Darkness would have to be able to leave without being pwned by Leeland. XD

[tyrant]

(( *anticipation!!* XD take your time))

[tyrant]

>> Forte >>

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Though I may have no “story“, my past is not what makes me who I am.

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>> Forte watched this brute from over her shoulder. His face contorted in disgust and he sulked off from her. A wide grin grew on her face as he floated away from what he did not understand. Swerving her hips, she positioned herself at an angle to watch this brute. If she was to leave now; leave this brute to rot within his own thoughts, she‘d be alright. There was no weight about her ankle, no chain to keep her there. She was no slave, heaven forbid, and would not follow or plead with this stallion for him to take her in. ‘Beggars cant be choosers’, they all say. However, Forte was no beggar. [/size]

>> Settling her attention on elsewhere, the canyons she had just traveled, Forte seemed to lose interest. Yet the steed’s ever grumbling voice met her flickering ears once more. Turning her lovely head towards the sound, her mismatched eyes took in his shape. He was much bigger than her, though not in a behemoth manner. A appropriate height for someone who ruled, she figured, and he seemed to rule something. If it was not his emotions, or his feelings, it was the fate of others. Darkness hinted to his confusion he held with dealing with Forte, and she cocked her head to the side as if she did not know. However, in her eyes were the answer to her questionable posture. She knew. Oh, she knew well. Toying with the minds, prying into the deep caverns of places that haven’t seen another soul in decades-- that was what Forte loved to do. Not inflict, pain, however, though sometimes to get down that deep--there is pain in breaking the virgin feelings. Darkness could not determine her motives; good or manipulative. Truth was, sometimes SHE couldn’t either. When she was destined to be manipulative, sometimes she was sincere. And when she tried to be sincere, sometimes the snake would wield it’s ugly head. However, at this moment, there was no motive or goal in figuring out this stallion. As she had stated before-- he could do nothing for her. Nothing she needed as of yet. Darkness spoke in short spurts about his little time to hear about her life, and his little desire to speak of his--but that he was prepared to do so, anyways. A chuckle raised in her throat and she nodded as there was a pause. He seemed to be determining whether or not he should spill his tainted history. What a common sight this was to Forte. She was, indeed, a unique equine. Able to bring out the most hidden aspects in an individual. And, it had always been like this. Always. [/size]

" Go on, my lord. Make haste. As you said, there is little time to converse on such matters… "[/size][/color]

>> Intriuged eyes blinked as he took a breath and his sides heaved an began. She noticed his body language, and his eyes. They were not intended on looking at her, his body not intended on facing her. He was introverted and uncomfortable about spilling such issues, and she could tell. Darkness, whether he would admit it or not, was vulnerable at this moment. Perhaps she was to make fun of what he had spoken thus far? Or disrespect the past? He would be hurt, angered, and confused. At the moment, he trusted her with this piece of knowledge of him. It was not much, not life-changing. But it was trust. She assumed that this brute did not do this too often. Forte did not take it lightly, and listened with eager ears and soft eyes. Shifting her weight to the other leg, and cocking her foot in leisure, the spotted mare listened.
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>> It was a most interesting story. She did not expect a less morbid and ill-wrought story, likewise. He traced back from his homeland, the reason for his being, his parents, their genetic makeup, his first s.xual encounter, his first love (in a way), and much more. The steady built up was an intense struggle for him. She watched him with a calm spirit as he went from a placid tone and placid composure to a near eruption of rage and anger. There were times he quivered from the pain and anger, times he cut short his story to move on with the next subject, dismissing each time with a silly comment or a negligent bash. This brute, she figured, though he was not terribly older than she, was weathered beyond belief. His past, though she knew not what ‘radiation‘ was nor the exact details of WHY they chose to live there, was explained in full to Forte. She understood as much as she could, being young and inexperienced in such.[/size].

>> Even when, in great detail, Darkness explained all the ‘foolish‘ equines he killed, Forte did not flinch nor seemed altered in any way. Her mind, however, processed these things one by one. Storing them in places she could recall for later. Though she should fear this beast, she did not. Though she should be troubled by such a horrid past, she was not. Though she stood before a cannibalistic, murderer of an equine, she felt no sick pit in her stomach. Forte was an odd creature, indeed, being bothered not by such things. Being bothered not by what happened to her, either. It was interesting, indeed, and she sympathized with the brute‘s pain and quivering anger-- but she was no offended or scarred. Though she be young, Forte possessed the mind of a much older, seasoned mare. Perhaps by chance, or perhaps by some odd psychological problem. Forte, the exotic and lovely beast, did not associate things as others did. Striving under pressure, impenetrable under mental attacks, and unmoving under oppression, Forte was a leader and built to be the leader who takes all--but feels none. Of course, there were ways she felt these things-- but they were never witnessed. Even by herself sometimes, things she did not know she felt. Perhaps the brute and herself were not so different, after all. As he finished with his story, she straightened up as he addressed her. Slowly speaking, she flicked her tail. It was getting more chilled outside, and from a distance she could make out the mournful calls of the wolves. [/size]



" My opinion, aye?……….Well I do believe that you have a daunting past. However, whatever I was to utter, I‘m sure you would have already been told before-- or knew yourself. My opinion holds nothing new."[/size][/color]

>> Forte was lost in her own thoughts at the moment to give a valid opinion. Feeling the brute’s expectant eyes upon her, she took a breath. Her life? He referred to her as a ‘pretty creature’, which made her eyes blink. He had not addressed her so kindly the whole time they had stood idly, though it did not take her back. Considering his opinion, she shook her head and began. Her words held with heaviness, though her voice showed no sorrow. Her eyes showed no weak emotion. Resolution and acceptance, security and knowledge were in the forefront of her optics. The beautiful mare arched her neck down to her feet, nipping at the skin above her hoof, before raising up to answer his queries. Here eyes looked hard at him as she spoke the next words.
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" No, my lord, I have no herd. Though I am sure you have heard the ‘rebellious rogue’ story many, many times-- I dare you to not stereotype me. To disregard me as a mere ‘punk’ would be a waste, to say the least.”
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>> Her words seemed perfectly calculated, as though she were trying to recall a memory long forgotten. Truth was, it was long forgotten. To remember her past, even though it be not more than 3 years ago, was like recalling a dream.
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" My past…..Well. I have no thrilling story like yours. My family is of no mutated gene. I was not born with a great name like yours, or even a name at all. I was never supposed to be born; never supposed to be even thought of. I am an illegitimate child-- punished because of my mother’s adultery.”
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>> Like she was retelling the story, her words were detached. However, she flickered her eyes and bore them into the stallions.
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" I was born in vain. Doomed to be nothing. I wasn’t even given a name. Ostracized and forbidden to be anything great, I had a choice. I had a choice to become what I was supposed to be, acknowledge and accept what they told me I was or what I wasn’t, or I had a choice to be something greater.”
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>> Ice and stone eyes went hard and she raised her head in an aggressive posture. Flickering her ears back slowly, her words were as cold and hard as one who lived as old as 18 years. She was dominant and strong, a leader not only to others, but herself.
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” Everything I am, everything I have, and everything I will be-- I have fought and worked for. My name, if you did not know, means ‘the strong point of a sword’, ‘a loud note’, or ‘ that in which one excels’. Everything which I was not supposed to be, I am. I chose not to be bitter and accept my fate-- I changed it. I cannot chose what comes my way, but I can chose how I let it affect me.”
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>> Forte’s eyes softened and she let her tensed muscles relax. It was not near as noticeable as when Darkness had his emotions surging. Forte was just expressing her great desire to be something different, something more. Something great. Forte sighed.
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” Well I suppose you are wondering just how I got here, aye? Well, like I said, I always have a choice. You always have a choice.”
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>> The lovely temptress’ words were that of many years older. She did not explain her Alpha trying to breed her, her mother’s pain or her father’s humiliation because of her. How she was the scapegoat and the butt of many jokes and harmful pranks. No, those were irrelevant and possibly forgotten-- for a while. Seeming to break the sullen mood, she tossed her youthful head up and down. Nickering, she changed the subject eagerly.
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” So, my lord, Fear of Darkness, you rule a land, do ye?”
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S T A T U S completed
A N T I C I P A T E D 2050
W O R D C O U N T
C R E D I T Tyrant (author)
O O C well...I mean we can work out an escape route later. As for which battles you choose for the book, soemtimes battles dont last that long or the other players get unactive. I am planning on being VERY active on this site--perhaps through my whole college career. I enjoy this site. Leeland has challenged for Cimetar.

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[Pyrrhüloxia]

Fear of Darkness
'A plan has come to mind, your acceptance is required'

Darkness neither flinched nor hinted towards a sympathy that didn't exist within him as the filly raised her head proudly into the heavens and let her smooth lyrics flow out. Hm, her story was quite bland, no flavor or spice. Darkness watched her movements, one brow arched. Inside he was rather amused at how she said she fought for everything and yet has nothing. Now, Darkness on the other hand has a lot to his name. So he thought. Five offspring, or two, depending on whether or not the other three he sired survived or not; a nice kingdom; plenty of scars to show his strength (which he also worked on to gain), and of course his rising army. All done by his wee little self. And here a young mare boasts about how she had the guts to persevere through nothing until she gained nothing. Obviously Forte was holding back more of the story. But he would let it slip by, not like he cared anyway. The sable hellion snorted quietly, running the edge of his sharp front left hoof into the bases of grass blades, watching them tumble and bleed.

As the spotted lady raved about her name meaning this and that, Darkness could not help but yawn ever so slightly. Point of a sword, yep; a loud note; most definitely, he thought to himself smirking and shaking his long, roman skull. He wondered when it would end, this talk and conversation. He was not particularly angry anymore, more bored to say the least. Perhaps this filly was too mature for her own good. While she cranked out the words in the form of an older being, they struck this brute as dull and tasteless without any true meaning. Ah well...

The sable stag twisted his neck to let a listless gaze fall upon her swiftly moving form. Standing perfectly still upon his legs, he listened more until she finally settled down, only to change the subject in the blink of any eye. Yes, yes, avoiding Darkness' criticism are we? He chuckled a bit in the deep of his throat. He replied in an uninterested tone as though his place wasn't anything special.

"Aye I do. Nothing grand. I expect I will be claiming more land soon as well. My numbers have grown beyond my expectations and soon I shall have enough under my command to appoint an overseer at another location. All for the sake of army building I suppose. Oh, and yes I do have one of those, an army that is." As for her, 'He has a choice', in truth, Darkness only has choices outside of the Badlands till his attack. Sad really...

Turning aside, The Maggot Lord sauntered off to the west until he was positioned to the other side of Forte, closer, but not too much. Ruby pools stared her in the face, analyzing the contours and debating within himself. Should he offer this bore hospitality within his borders? She would most likely decline, and if she did not, he would have a worthy addition. Even so, he did not overly much enjoy her company as he did others. Or did he? Bah, who cares?

"I do not suppose you might be interested in visiting one day? Being a free roamer in these lands is a might dangerous. Seeing as most masters prefer to force a free-roamer into a slave just on a whim. Not hinting towards myself, of course."

his question was ambiguous, a little on the creepy lech side, but not blatant. Truly, if he could teach her how to fight she'd be a deadly opponent. And all would fear her under Fear of Darkness' command. And her own of course. She looked to be the type who (if a master) would not put up with anyone's slack. In fact; a little light bulb lit above his dark crania (figuratively speaking). A year or two of training with his three males would turn her into a warrior; a master of martial arts. Thusly, she could be made into a trainer and help him train the rest of his lot. Beating them into submission and teaching the new warriors how to bash someone's brains in. An excellent idea. Probably wouldn't ever happen though. If she was as eager to become something as she says she is though, then he could have a chance, right?

It sent thrills up and down his spine. No, she wasn't his breed and no where near as strong, but she was smaller and slender. Swift... enough anyway; and probably highly versatile. Perfect.

"Actually, I have a different proposition. You look fairly strong and swift, and after hearing your intense desire to become someone or something, I might have a position among my ranks perfect for you. If you have guts enough to join an army alongside one of the most notorious stallions known."

Darkness smirked, not a hint of fallacy in his deep speech. He was actually interested in having her, if she would have him. And obeyed, that was another little aspect that always slipped his mind until someone made him angry.

"What say you?"

Status// Complete
Word Count// 856
Notes// I could have done soooo much better on this post. It is so sloppy. >.<

Anyway, yeah. It would be awesome if Leeland opposed him. And I'm glad your staying! New members are always welcomed and fun to have around!^^ Especially after they become old members, lol.

[tyrant]

(( OOC: hey, soooo sorry about the delayed post. I had some things come up and totally broke my muse...give me a day and I'll get back with you. Thanks for being patient-- I havent forgotten!))

[tyrant]

>> Forte >>

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And you call ME mundane? You're meloncholy town might be a bit too -boring- for me.

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>> Though she had spoken her heart-- her passionate, burning heart-- the brute was not satisfied. That miffed her in a way, though she did not let it show too much. Raising her perfectly proportioned neck, thick, lean, and elegant, the spotted mare sucked in her confidence infront of this brute. Fiesty eyes watched him, a lively glance for a bored glance. When he yawned, she did not notice nor falter. To him, she was still nothing. But he did not matter-- no one did, really. As long as she was satisfied and knew the truth-- that she was indeed something great-- what this bruised and decaying brute said or did was nothing. He was depressing, ill-wrought, and destined for destruction. There was no hope, not future, no life left for him. Unless someone was to come along and spark his fire, take his dead heart and make it at least somewhat half-hearted about SOMETHING-- she would never look up to this brute. How could she respect someone who did not respect himself? How could she fear someone who had nothing to fear himself? There was an oddity to him. An eerie calm, like the pit of a gully where stagnant salty water collected and stank. He must think she had nothing. However, despite what he told her, he apperantly had LESS than she did. [/size]

>> She pondered his 'army' and his speech. Other than seeming very bland, his shrugging and breathy mentioning of his land and aspirations was VERY distasteful. There was not much to this steed, after all. He was seemingly worn out, and simple. Darkness seemed to have two switches-- rage or boredom. An odd mixture for an odd stallion. His great sides heaved as he spoke, and the rumbling filled her head. She figured that there would never be another who spoke like him. His voice was like thunder rumbling through a valley. Loud but void of substance. Sure, Forte knew what this large beast was capable of. He had mentioned his uncanny taste for equine flesh, and she could easily note his tremendous size and weight. However, this black brute, though unlike most testosterone-crazed b.stards, was not what she had expected.
[/size]

" I am sure your army is grand, my lord. "[/size][/color]

>> There was not much thought to her words as she was watching this brute. A psychologist indeed, a mastered and skilled equine with a knack for travelling inside one's mind. A torturous device, a special gift. Blue and brown eyes, one left and the other right, blinked as he gave her a choice. He spoke with a quicker tempo. Could it be that he found a mantra? A source of excitement? Looking him over as he was nearer to her, elongated and lovely body winded close to him. Turning her head to look forward, towards the horizon, and away from the brute she thought only momentatily.
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"The most notorious, eh? [/color]
[/size]

>> Taking a breath, the seductress watched as nightfall finally consumed them. It was twilight and there upon them was an eerie red shadow. It brought out the ambers and russets in her deep bay coat, and it played red upon her white blanketed hide. A blue eye and a brown one looked towards him, her forelock hiding the right. She looked absolutely lovely in the light they stood in, each ripple of finely toned muscle and feminine curve was dipped and shaded by the light they were bathed in. There was a fire in her bones, a desire in her blood. Forte muttered towards the stallion whose black coat seemed to hold flecks of red from the sunset.



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" I suppose I could give it a chance. Besides, you could not hold me captive even if you would be so dim witted to 'make me a slave'.” [/size]

>> Ever calm and collected, she snorted and waited for this brute's retort.[/size]

S T A T U S completed
A N T I C I P A T E D
W O R D C O U N T 880
C R E D I T Tyrant (author)
O O C Mmmk Leeland has the land. Its been 5 days, so yay!

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