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So many new converts; so many new innocent minds to corrupt to the truth. Oh the blessed truth. The simply, glorious fact that the horns upon their brows were the crowns on this land, stating them all as Kings. Everything unfortunate enough to not bear this crown was merely dirt beneath his cloven hooves. Wretches. Ugly curs that barely deserved his notice, let alone his kindness. If such a thing even existed anyway.
The call of his king brought him forth from the shadows of his own mind, a wild and insane place full of designs and sketches for future machinery. As his heels whirred the metal wolf, eyes glowing red and soulless. It was unnatural, disturbing and yet entirely wonderful. What a sick creature to create such a sick machine. Cloven hooves moved forward, and he made his presence known to his king on the fringes of the group, not content to put himself in the ring of newcomers.
With a flash of his bronze and leonine tail, he examined them all. A few he recognized. More he found foreign. A few new mares were lovely, but one of them seemed far too timid for his taste. Timid things made him want to destroy, bring them to their knees and break them until they were strong enough to rise form the rage inside. Given Mauja's permission, he may do just that.
There stood that foolish sand stallion, still as remarkably dull as ever. Ulrik snorted in irritation through black, velvety nostrils, and he lifted his thick neck high, his two, twisted horns a dark and brutal image in the sky. The bronze, tribal markings that ran down his shoulder accentuated the thickly corded musculature as he towered over many present. Except perhaps his king and d'Art. Ulrik found a certain fondness in the mad doctor; perhaps he was just as mad as himself.
Raindancer? Honestly? What sort of good feelings pipe was that mare smoking? Was she truly that naive? The stallion's short and wild temper was already rising, and his muscles tensed, bronze eyes flashing. He tossed his thick, black mane and the mechanical wolf at his side let out a disturbingly dark growl. Ulrik snapped his head around to the machine. "Quiet!" he barked in his guttural tone to the machine, which responded by staring soullessly forward.
"The Sun's Wrath is finally starting to break. Winter is coming..." he growled in his deep voice. He remained silent once more, content to hear what Mauja would say before testing his boundaries by speaking on the supremacy of the unicorns.
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Change of Seasons [Mandatory Herd Meeting]
