As a child I had been obedient, the perfect child. I would always do what my mother told me, but my perfectness only lasted for a few weeks. I was found talking to nothing, and soon my parents discovered my mental issues. My father instantly said I was worthless garbage. My mother had defended me, and was injured because of that. Afterwords I mutilated my father.

That's when it came along.

My love for blood and flesh. It grew like a wild fire, and in an instant I was consumed entirely. After getting a taste of flesh I instantly went insane, and my body changed. And so did I.

I'm standing high atop the frozen hills of the Steppe, my mane and tail whipping in the numbing breeze. My solid gray hooves are dug into the snow, my nostrils flaring. I'm gazing down at the barren wasteland below me. It's silent, peaceful. I hated it.

I wanted war. I wanted to hear the sound of flesh tearing apart and bones crunching. I wanted to hear the screams of victims and the roaring of the attackers. I wanted to see the war, watch as the blood stains the ground and the hooves and teeth dig deeply into the flesh. As feathers and blood rain down from the sky and horns pierce skin.

I stomp my hoof, rearing up. My gray hooves box the air and I call out, call out for a horse that dared to fight me. I wanted a battle. I wanted to feel my horn sink through soft tissue, I wanted the blood to stain my body. I wanted to feast on the flesh of another. I wanted it.

And it would come to me on a silver platter. A fool who dared to fight me. I would destroy them. I would pound them down. Yes, that is what I would do. I glance to the side, all four of my solid coal hooves back onto the ground. A shady figure stands beside me, beady red eyes staring back at me. Interesting, he never came around much. Long time no see. I stare at the form, a muscular build, a horn sitting atop his skull. "I haven't seen you since you were just a lass."

I see a slight smile creep upon the faded face of the figure and I smile too. Sort of. This, this was my first friend. He was the first ghost to creep into my head. He was my friend back then, taught me how to fight. He was the first one to start that dangerous wild fire, and he slowly forced it to grow. But I agreed to him, I had helped him spread the wild fire of hate and blood lust. And now, I wished to feed my hunger for blood. I wait there beside him, I wait for an opponent to arrive and fight me.

For there will be blood spilled under this night sky.

[[3 attack posts each, whoever posts next may attack first. 800 words max. Takes place in the Basin at dark. Magic and companions are allowed.]]