the Rift


[PRIVATE] Tortured

Paladin the Valiant Posts: 153
Deceased
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 hh :: 15 Years Buff: DANCE
Tamme
#1


PALADIN
The sound of iron shocks is stuck in my head


Paladin the Valiant could not keep his mind from coming back here, to this place. He knew something evil had taken place here - the blackness in his heart had told him so. How long had he fought against the darkness inside? The inky blackness that threatened to strangle his mind and take over? The wickedness of his past, though years and miles away, haunted his every waking and sleeping step, and now, at his age, he could no longer stand the whispers.

They hissed around him, echoing off the trees as they told him things he had tried so hard to forget. "Murdered that pregnant mare - shame! Son of the Crimson King - wicked heart, wicked soul - the youngest general in the army - bloodthirsty cruelty-" He tried to shake the sounds physically, wring his head around with a gasping breath, but they would not leave.

He was tortured just as he had tortured. Was his path for redemption not enough to outweigh his sins? Did the trail of blood he mopped after him keep flowing from beneath his tainted hooves? Why had he even tried so hard to set the wrongs of the world right if it would not save his soul from the depths of hell from which he was wrought? Once a demon, always a demon.

Even his title mocked him as "Valiant". Perhaps, in a way it was true. He was brave, fearless, a courageous, lionhearted instrument of evil. The most pure of his actions were even tainted. To set his bloodline straight, he had fathered four children, two of whom ran a band of mercenaries, one with the racists and the other who knows where. The taint was in his very blood, passed along now for even more generations.

Only the truly evil could bring forth such darkness out of the desire for purity. The stallion groaned and lunged forward, ramming his pearly, white horn straight through the body of a tree with a resounding crack, heart hammering in his chest. When he withdrew, body still tense with the aftershocks of impulsion, he rested his face against the bark, closing his eyes and wanting to close them forever.

"What have I done..." he whispered for only the gods to hear. "Why do I keep coming back to this place?" He looked around the Deep Forest, the sense of delightful and horrifying wickedness thick and tangible. He could even taste the bitter blood on his tongue.





@[Roskuld] , @[Psyche]
Paladin's final thread, most likely. Smithers, I know you wanted Roskuld to meet him, so you can post here too! Also, hopefully, some Psyche/Paladin half-sibling fun.

Psyche the DarkEmpress Posts: 380
Deceased
Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 hh :: 8 (ages in Orangemoon) Buff: ENDURE
RayoDeSoleil
#2
Psyche</style></style>
 


The victor will never be asked if he told the truth.

Someone had warned her once, a long time ago - so long ago that she could no longer remember their face, or the circumstances, or the context. But he or she or whoever it was had told her that she would come to regret her actions, that one day her joy would turn to ashes in her mouth, and she would look back at her life with nothing but horror at the wrongs she had done. Someday she would not remember the reasons behind her actions, would not crave the recognition of being a great leader, would not know who she was or where she belonged. She had ignored them, of course - perhaps she had even killed them, but she couldn't remember that now. What she did remember was the slight chill that swept her core at the words, the way she pushed it aside in favor of her prejudiced bloodlust, pressing it into the recesses of her memory because no, of course they were wrong. She was strong, her cause was just, and she was meant to lead.

In retrospect, something about her naïveté made her ill.

For a long time, she had reveled in her hatred, in her disgust, in her arrogance - it had been her shield, her lifeline, the cold mask that she hid behind, parroting the opinions of a father she hated, but wanted to impress even after his death. She had been good at it, too, for a while - mediocre by his terms but a queen by her own, determined as she was to disprove his poor opinions of her. She had climbed to the top, built an empire brick by brick, murdered and tortured and manipulated until she stood at the top of her very own mountain, held up only by her own actions and choices, never dependent on anyone else (except wasn't she, really?).

She watched him from the shadows, that stallion that she had hated for so long, because he had been Riekahn's favorite, but in the end, hadn't he been the one to fall prey to their inferiors, to give up the teachings of the Crimson King in favor of peace and innocence and some strange farce of valiance? "You were right," she told him as she stepped from the trees, her broken horn held in a defensive bow.

"Talk talk talk."

[OOC | Using a GoT quote ftw!]

Image Credits
[Image: psycheicon.png]

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Use of force and/or magic (with the exception of death) is allowed at all times.

Paladin the Valiant Posts: 153
Deceased
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 hh :: 15 Years Buff: DANCE
Tamme
#3


PALADIN
The sound of iron shocks is stuck in my head


Paladin's warrior senses were ingrained into his very soul, always a part of him and unwilling to let go. Years of war and bloodshed would do that, make you look over your shoulder at the slightest whisper of the wind and start at the crack of thunder. So, when his half sister made her way into the clearing, she did not have to speak for him to know that she was there. He turned his head over his shoulder to look at her, the vacancy in his crimson eyes wide enough to swallow the world.

The stallion snorted sarcastically at her words, shaking his head in amusement. What cruel irony that here, at the end, they would switch places. "Funny," he rumbled. "I was about to tell you the same thing." He regarded her fractured horn emptily and the way she dipped her head. The world had broken then both, it seemed.

He still leaned against the tree, his nonchalance uncharacteristic of his borderline dramatic chivalry. In the presence of and lady, he would bow, even for his jackal of a half-sister, but now, he barely shifted his head around to give her a look. The bones in his body creaked and groaned with his movement, so staying still against the bark was a welcome reprieve from the daily pain. He wondered, absently, if she felt the same or if his body had been more frequently abused.

"I fought so long against our very nature," he grunted, snorting. "And for what? A ruined body, paranoia, and war." Paladin shook his head, shaking his scarred neck where his mane once toppled over his crest like a wave. Now, it was just a brush of white. "Father was right you know. All of this is in our blood, and we can't shake it. I was a fool to try and have simply contributed to the same cycle through my children and my actions."

Paladin looked at her with a smile on his face that was anything but joyful. "You were right."





Giselle Posts: N/A
Unregistered
:: :: ::
#4










Giselle was slithering her way through the shadows of these somewhat familiar lands before her. She had to remain hidden, she couldn’t risk being found before she was ready. She would hate word to reach who she was looking for before she did. She was going to hold such carnal pleasure in seeing the shocked look on their face. Her pelt shone obsidian and scarlet, horn pulsing crimson and eyes glistened carmine. From the very look of her, you could tell she was out for blood, from the way she stalked the darkness, the way her muscles were coiled, and the layer of sweat that made everything shimmer. She was practically foaming at the mouth for the taste of life fading from another. She moved almost silently through the flora, nearly gliding over the leaves and twigs that covered the forest floor. She knew how to stay hidden, for daddy had taught her well, the hours he had spent beating it into her. It was never good enough of course, and the memory of him leaving her alone to fend for herself in the woods one day is one that will never be forgotten. But boy had she tried to be enough for him, as good as her siblings, but it was never enough. Now they were here, without her. They had left her behind too, and boy was she bitter.

She was about to make her way out of the thicket when two harmonies floated their way towards her. Recognition exploded in her brain, she hadn’t expected to find them both, together, so soon. What a treat. She swung her well muscled rump around and snaked ever closer to the source of the lyrics. When she finally located them, she stood, shrouded in the shadows where she had spent much of her life, observing the pair of them. Her rage at them still being together after all this time slowly seeped its way through her brain. She blinked her ruby pools and set her jaw rigid, slowly becoming filled with a sense of calm purpose. Her eyes began to swim, struggling to keep her peripheral vision in focus, though she was hyper-aware of everything around her. The adrenaline was coursing through her veins, and she licked her lips manically as her saliva tasted metallic. The age old fantasy dripped its way back into her mind, the one that always ended up with the pair of them dead and bleeding on the floor, with her standing victorious and drenched in her family’s' purest blood. How could they have left her behind? It just simply wasn’t fair, she didn’t deserve it. And now watching them as close as ever, and her yet again on the outside was too much to bear.

“Enough of observing!” her inner deamon drawled at her. “Its time for the revenge you promised us both!” She chuckled as she pushed herself from the shadows, prancing, pillars up high with her dial tucked in tight against her chest, hooves dishing. “Well, well, look what we have here!” she lilted in a sing song voice. “What a family portrait this would make.. all three of us back together again!" She spat derisively. She twisted her way around the pair, giggling the whole time. This was going to be such fun..








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