Ulrik

the engineer

Ulrik the Engineer had once been leader of this herd, if only for a time. His words of pain and poison had pushed Psyche down, bearing on her crownless head until she yielded to him. After only a day of setting in motion his plans to make the herd great, he had handed the title over to Deimos. As he had said many times before 'politics undo me'. He was not the stallion you wanted answering the front door, his mad eyes and poor social skills certain to confirm rumors of treachery and darkness in this land.

And yet, here he stood, forced by his own creations to work at the gateway of the valley, his machines standing tall and proud in the snow. The Engineer was still working on the second one, but this one was slower. He needed more metal, and he would have to make a trip soon to gather. So, he turned his attention to the first sentinel which stood as a silent force, a statue until willed to move by circuitry and spark.

Other than working with Farenjer and Torleik, not much had happened in his life besides fathering a child. He had been present at his birth along side an insolent bitch whom he had barely managed not to murder on spot. After that incident, he hadn't been overly involved in Rikyn's life. He knew that Illynx had chosen him to father her child, so he would not get in the way of her rearing him the way she wanted.

That did not mean that he did not care for the boy or watch over him from a distance now and then. He had a despicable little friend Illynx had brought home, but he trusted the mare's judgement. She saw something special in the runt, so he would hold his tongue for the time being. Illynx had a reason for bringing her here, and he was curious as to what that reason was.

"Your boy approaches," Kirchoff muttered in boredom through the bond they shared. The hellhound rolled over onto his side in the grass and yawned, blinking his silver eyes up at Ulrik. "Your child, the one you fathered, you know... your responsibility."

Ulrik shot a glare at the mouthy hound before turning to see his boy indeed approach. He had grown considerably, no longer quite all leg and skinny body. Still, the stallion moved toward his child, cloven hooves lightly depressing the snow until they met. He smiled, the expression as warm as his dark and mad face could manage. Many would mistake Ulrik's lack of social interest and strange mannerisms as stupidity, but in reality, he was a genius, unfettered by the niceties of the normal mind.

But in his heart, he still deeply cared for and possibly even loved his child. "Rikyn," he said, his voice holding pride. Pride was as close to love as he could express vocally. "You look stronger than ever." Ulrik leaned down to pull his boy closer and affectionately tousle his growing hair. He remembered what the boy smelled like when he was still a babe, so soft and innocent...

"Tell me, what brings you here?" he asked. He could care less if Rikyn ran away from his mother and wreaked havoc. Boys needed to destroy things and break the rules in order to know the rules. If he was sheltered too much and too long, he would eventually grow up and snap, disobeying every law that would keep him safe. In other words, Ulrik's philosophy was 'break rules now so you know your limits later'.