The black creature was not afraid of the night, not frightened of the darkness that wrapped his charcoal coat like a kiss from the loving parent he never had. Cloven hooves slid across old, dead bones and corpses preserved in the marsh from lack of oxygen exchange which promoted the decay of living things. Here, in this place, the cycle of nature was interrupted. The bodies did not return to the earth, and instead, they remained juicy and quite real looking (albeit wrinkly) just beneath the surface of the opaque slime.
Ulrik felt as if he were cheating death in this place, his own living muscles able to propel him beyond those who had been stagnant for so long. Could they be revived, reformed, remade? Could he bring them back to life with a little shock and maybe a new heart? Could he make them his own? Love them, cherish them in a way only a father could know? In the absence of the sun, the already frayed and tattered mind grew even more sinister, his plans becoming ever more grand, violent and brutal. Would only metal horns on all the hornless satisfy him now? Would it sate the thirst for domination, desire and yearning?
No. Never would his thirst for power and corruption be quenched.
In an alternate world, at the height of his throne, he would aspire for greatness, ever learning, every experimenting with thousands of subjects at his disposal. The sun would not rise on his empire, and the skies would weep blood. A simple engineer, a learned mechanic, becoming the king of all things and the bringer of the apocalypse. He would herald the new age with his strength and guide them with his mind, and oh did he dream.
Could it start here? Could it start now? This glorious and inspiring revolution? All it took was one.... one mind.
All it took was one move and the entire system would fall, come crashing down in one feel swoop, but he had yet to get in a position where he could see the entire game board. Frustrating, that he was still only a rook, the strong castle on the fringes only allowed to move in a linear direction. He wanted more. A king was too limited, absolutely, but the bishop and the knight could move even more subtly. Somehow, he had to find this position and skate easily across the fields until every square was visible.
But in the darkness, every square was black and every square was his. They now walked on his mini-game. On this moonless night, he used the lamp-like eyes of his hellhound to see more clearly, and the darkness of his coat swallowed the light hungrily. Ulrik danced at the sound of desperate, female voices, lost in the hollows of his most favored location. Would they play with him? Would they run and scream and cry and all the frivolities of fear? Oh he hoped so.
The squelching sound of a beast moving in the slime preceded his arrival. In the darkness, the beast tilted his head, an innocent gesture turned disturbing as he spied the two females, both without horns. Ulrik smiled darkly, showing the whites of his teeth in a most sinister way, a mad way. His mind was full of gears that turned and turned and turned and never, ever stopped turning. Each image was glorious, disgusting violence and they churned out with every cycle.
"Time to join your friends, deep beneath the surface...." he rumbled, the quality and tone of his voice more like a diesel engine with rocks thrown into the gasoline tank.
Without warning, Ulrik lunged at the mare who had gasped the name "Rowan" so stutteringly. Massive, coiled muscles gathered in his haunches, propelling his body like a train from the murk. The stallion swung his head to the side in tandem, jabbing the dual, long, curved horns at the one mare, hoping to impale her on his very head.
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[O] Pandora's Fateful End :: Death Thread
