A Machine for Pigs [Ulrik]

[JUDGED] A Machine for Pigs [Ulrik]

Torleik the Bloodskald Posts: 354

Outcast atk: 4.5 | def: 8.0 | dam: 7.5

Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 11 HP: 66.5 | Buff: SWIFT

Irelyn :: Plain Griffin :: Molten Dagger RedGod

10-01-2013, 11:14 PM (This post was last modified: 11-04-2013, 03:23 PM by Odd.)

Torleik was angry.

He had figured Ulrik was the type to care little for others, to use them for his own benefit and gain when it suited him, but he had not anticipated the engineer would take on an entire crown just to feed his own ego. Though he considered the engineer a friend of sorts, as he had given him a brief tour and explanation of the Basin and of Helovia in general, the soldier could not stand by this.

Well hidden in his cave in the Basin, Torleik had overhead the entire exchange. Ulrik's admonition of Psyche's failures had apparently been enough to push the mare too far, and much to the soldier's shock, she had simply thrown her leadership title at the engineer's feet.

A title Ulrik had taken all too hungrily.

Torleik's anger had burned as he had slipped out of his cave and taken the long route around the three, curving far to the east near the Frostbreath Steppes, his black bulk hidden behind the swells of snow, not waiting to see the final outcome of their parlay. He could not sit idly and watch a greedy exchange, watch the title of leader pass from weary hands to diabolically self-centered ones. A leader who cared only for his title, for his own power for the pure fucking thrill of it was not one Torleik would follow - not one that would ever truly lead a people.

The stallion's ire took him on a long, circuitous trot, the machinations of his mind working him into a tightly wound ball of indignant muscle. Ulrik would treat this rule like he would treat a machine. Every cog, every bolt and nut would be a stallion or mare, and each would be a part of the larger whole, never an identity. These parts would be interchangeable at the engineer's will, pieces in his grand design, his most glorious invention: a court of controlled subjects.

No. He would not stand for it. Tossing his head and spinning on his planted back hooves, the rabicano stallion returned from whence he came in a far more direct route, finding the shaggy beast of a unicorn alone, the others gone.

"ULRIK!" the blue-eyed demon bellowed, his snarl harsh. Torleik stayed some feet away from him, level with his left flank. "You are not fit to lead the Basin," he stated bluntly, glacial eyes narrowing. "I demand you step down, now!"

@[Ulrik]

[OOC: I apologize now if I do this horribly. This is my first go, and I figure a trial by fire is best.]

TORLEIK
"It make me sick that it's hard to distinguish an honest leader who preaches a cause that's not made, and not based on the profit you'll receive from telling the world. What line divides you from the sinners who sow without growing believers? You point and you judge, forgetting that their faith is molded by your name."