| Deceased |
| Mare :: Equine :: 15.3 :: 15 |
| Alex |
How fitting for the once great sentinel of the woodlands to meet his end in the seclusion of a forest. A smirk cracked Mandrake's lips as she led her newborn son toward the body of his sire. This time she'd had less to do than she had previously, whatwith her sons taking care of ending the Sentinel for her. She'd basked in the gory details of their fight and laughed at the news that the mighty sentinel had turned into a pony upon dying. The massive black stallion was nothing more than a dappled grey mutt.
"Come, Knox." The mare spoke gruffly, her eyes turning on her son. He would be mighty, less of a disappointment than her last stolen son had been. This one would be like her Archibald. He would be a fighter. He would bring pride and glory to their family rather than shame and embarrassment. She navigated the woods, maintaining a steady speed that the newborn could keep up with.
Ahead of them she could see the beaten form of the dapple grey that had once claimed to be the Sentinel. The Phooka. Mandrake barked a laugh as they drew closer. Upon reaching the stallion she stopped and gazed down at him, her eyes flashing dangerously. Her body began to shift, and though it was painful the mare never uttered a word. Soon it was a jaguar that stood beside the colt and the prone body of what had been his sire.
"Stay, Knox." She cast a sidelong glance at the foal before her attention was turned back to the Sentinel. She ambled forward, her claws extending as she slashed at Roanne's stomach. Skin and muscle parted and entrails were spilled around her paws. There was not enough blood there. The jaguar moved to the Sentinel's throat and again she slashed. Blood spurted from the severed jugular and splashed across her face.
"Come here, Knox." Her voice was raspy as she demanded the foal to come. Blood continued to ooze from the severed artery and pool on the ground. Once the foal was at her side Mandrake pushed him down into the puddle. "Lay there, Knox. Bathe in your father's blood." She dipped her paws into the bloody pool and smeared it across the foal's body. "You will be great." She told the foal. "You will be strong." She put a paw on the foal's neck and pushed his head down toward the pool of blood. "Drink."
 |
| Outcast atk: 4 | def: 7.5 | dam: 6.5 |
| Stallion :: Equine :: 17hh :: 7 Years [Tallsun] HP: 67.5 | Buff: NOVICE |
| Jen |
06-22-2012, 05:44 PM
(This post was last modified: 06-22-2012, 07:35 PM by Knox.)
Little defective colt follows his mother. Still covered in afterbirth, he has just learned to walk. Before the body of his father he stands shaking, his blue eyes only just opened as they gaze with pure innocence upon the dead. Trapped in the shadow of his shifting mother, he stands stolidly, knowing fear. He cannot know fear. He does not know of the concept. He cannot understand death, blood, or the heat of it as it splatters across his face. He does not know such concepts.
He hears her voice but does not know what the commands mean. He does as she does, associating each word with each action. When she said come she moved her legs about as he has just learned to do, and, unsure of any other course of action, he chooses to resort to mimicry. And thus, moving his new legs about, he learned what "come" meant.
He established that stay meant to wait and watch as she transforms, for he cannot do the same himself. He had felt a stirring- he had felt as if he should have been able to. He had felt as though somewhere in his blood was the capability to become another being entirely. But he could not. And so he waited, and thus he learned what "stay" meant.
She says come once more, but she is not moving. He nervously moves his legs about- walks, as was the common term unestablished in consciousness- and moves himself behind her, as he had done earlier when following the order. He does not know what here meant, where here was- she has made no indication towards any particular place.
And then beside the body of his father he falls, his mother's force behind him. He understands that here is where she wants him to be, where she directs him. Thus he learns what "here" means.
He feels the heat of the red life that once fed the stallion alongside him. He hears her call him father, but he does not know what that means, simply that the quiet, still, open one must be that. She calls the substance blood- orders him to lay and bathe. She takes the paws that he unhesitatingly knows to belong to his mother and swipes them across him, forcing him further into the pool as she does so. She covers him in the blood and pushes him down. And thus he learns what blood is, and what bathe means.
She says great and strong, but he doesn't know what the words mean. She tells him to drink and forces him down by the neck until each breath is filled with the sharp sting of his father's blood- until the breath changes from inhalation to an uneasy swallow that suppresses the natural inclination to reject the fluid. And thus he learns what drink means.
But through it all, his eyes cannot meet his mother's gaze. He cannot find love, or learn what it means. He does not understand what it is about her voice that enraptures him so, or why he must obey her. He does not know what Knox is. What Knox means. He does not know why softly, lying beneath the piercing sound of his mother's voice, he hears the whisper of death. He does not know why the black bridle wrapped around the dead stallion, framing his face in an image of pure defeat, is seeming to lose its hue each moment. Why the night tones of its worn leather are dripping and mixing with the blood, burning as it slides down his throat. He does not know he is drinking the curse that plagued his father. He does not understand the faint green glow that seems to haunt the now white bridle.
It will be quite some time before he understands the concept of a spirit left behind.
[Should we open this up to his brothers or keep it just us?]
img © nereis01 |
| Absent Abyss atk: 6.0 | def: 9.5 | dam: 8 |
| Stallion :: Equine :: 18.3 hh :: 10 years HP: 80 | Buff: SHIELD |
|
Loretta :: Alaskan Malamute :: Time Slip
Time |
Archibald's footfalls were driving, a new force behind them. He sent forcing signals to Loretta, pushing her forward harder and harder. The gargantuan horse pushed forward with his head down, eyes narrowed and ears back. His gallop shook the ground, the power surging through his body with each time his hoof struck the dirt. The giant beast and his smaller companion pushed forward, back to the body of his family's latest victim--the father of his newest brother. The bastard child was now here, Roanne's creation of anger and confusion. The hatred for the stallion still boiled in his chest--no one hurt Archibald's family and got away in one piece.
Bellowing out a strong neigh Archibald threw his head and bucked up, just barely missing the horn of the grey stallion running behind him, easily identified as his younger--no longer youngest--brother, Casimir. Slowing his pace, Archibald slid to a stop, rearing up slightly and striking the air with his massive hooves. Tossing his head he sent Loretta into a barking fit, power and anger and pride about Archibald's killing of the old herd leader filling the area. Slamming back to the ground Archibald stood back, waiting and watching the induction ceremony of Knox.
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| Absent Abyss atk: 6.0 | def: 9.5 | dam: 8 |
| Stallion :: Equine :: 18.3 hh :: 10 years HP: 80 | Buff: SHIELD |
|
Loretta :: Alaskan Malamute :: Time Slip
Time |
Casimir ran after Archibald, keeping his head high to keep his horns untangled from the brush he was constantly tripping over. Archibald's companion, Loretta, growled and nipped at the large, grey stallion's heels whenever he almost stepped on her. His senses now on hyper-drive, Casimir got as close to Archi as possible without angering Loretta to feed off of his older brother's passion. So much anger filled the black shire, and Casimir tried not to let it in--knowing that his other side would come out like it had during the murder.
Coming to a stop after Archibald Casimir let his head drop to the ground, nose filling with the scent of blood. Flashes of his own baptism filled his mind and obediently, he stayed silent behind his brother.
| Hidden Account |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 15.2hh :: 12 Buff: NOVICE |
|
Rita :: Greyhound :: Water Mold
imi |
06-24-2012, 12:12 PM
(This post was last modified: 06-24-2012, 12:13 PM by Evers.)
The little blue stallion hadn't been up to much, the new lands had some interesting faces inhabiting it but nothing too exciting. He made his way towards the deep forest, a flash of scent telling him Archibald and Casimir had passed this way. Wondering what the two were up to Evers picked up into an ambling trot, silently moving in and around the trees.
Soon he was faced with his mothers scent and another, the scent of his new brother helped to existance by the late Roanne. To which Evers had made sure his life was severed by his mothers request. Curious and worried about what his family was up to now, Evers picked up his pace. Tracing the footfalls of his brothers. The wood seemed to thicken as Evers noted Archibalds companion, Loretta, standing guard as loyal as any dog by his bigger brothers hooves. The corpse of Roanne laid off to one side, his new brother fatherless already. Just like the rest of them, he would fit in well. The scholar watched his spindly legs attempt to follow his mothers macabre commands, wincing slightly as he was made to drink his own fathers blood. Evers could not remember being so young, he almost envied the foal.
The earth cracked beneith his feet as he moved to stand next to Casimir. "Mother." He said in greeting to her, watching his new brother with interest.
![[Image: everstable.png]](http://img210.imageshack.us/img210/1198/everstable.png)
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| Outcast |
| Stallion :: Equine :: 19.0 :: 10 Buff: NOVICE |
|
Claribel :: Irish Wolfhound :: None
Sparrow |
Step. Step. Step. Step. Blood. Head up. Nostrils flare - white - and the sweet metallic taste slides down his gullet. Shivers ripple outward. Golden eyes blink. Mother. The smell and the word become synonymous - became synonymous so long ago he doesn’t even realize the contradiction. Mother is black and sweetness, the cloying sweetness of rot. Mother is punishment. Mother is calling him.
He knows.
Hooves like sledgehammers turn to follow a path known only to him and to the others. It winds like a secret through the trees, all smell, and at the end of it he thinks to find more death. A bird calls in the trees behind him, and flight bangs one meaty shoulder into a nearby tree. Recoiling, Vincent breathes into the dark. Something behind him runs across its own path; the air leaps with the crackling of dead leaves and the stallion shakes his head. I’m not afraid, he thinks. Don’t be afraid. He walks on.
He arrives late.
Vincent finds the others gathered there already: Evers, Casimir, Archibald. His twin’s deep voice resounds through earth and tree alike, and Vincent’s heart beats heavy with the noise. His own throat trembles with response - wordless, haphazard. Like an avalanche he thunders up into the clearing where he stops, his yellow eyes wide, and finds Mother at the centerpiece of this display. The colt kneeling below her is a new face; Vincent’s ears fly forward as he moves to join his twin, the only safe face in this gathering of beasts. Maybe if he’s quiet, Mother won’t know he’s late. Maybe if he hadn’t shouted.... but he didn’t think of it before. He shuffles, anxious, and presses his side toward Archibald. It doesn’t matter, any of it. She will be distracted by the newborn. He will learn its name. Then they will all leave, and he’ll find a dark place to hide.
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| Deceased |
| Mare :: Equine :: 15.3 :: 15 |
| Alex |
One by one they came to her, Archibald naturally in the lead with Casimir close on his heels. Evers followed behind them and Vincent brought up the rear. The last to arrive. Late. Oh yes, she knew. When would he learn that mother knew everything? She knew when he was early to a family gathering and she knew when he was late. She hated when he was late. His tardiness, however, could be dealt with at a later time for he was not the subject of her scrutiny. No, the feeble little colt born out of her and Roanne was the subject and as he drank his fill of his father's blood she felt, with each gulp, that he would be strong. She felt pride.
Mandrake lifted her paw from the foal's neck as he drank, her cold eyes sweeping over what was left of the once great stallion. When the time had come he had been quite pitiful, hadn't he? The fight he had put up hadn't even challenged her sons. Her gaze stopped on the fading bridle, her head tilting ever so slightly at the oddity of it. The bridle had been a weakness, in her opinion, but it had also been what the Sentinel was known for. His claim to fame, if you will.
"Vincent." She spoke his name without turning to him. "Remove the bridle and place it on your brother." Her gaze shifted back to the young foal. He would be known as the Sentinel's son, she decided, and he would be great.
|
| Outcast atk: 4 | def: 7.5 | dam: 6.5 |
| Stallion :: Equine :: 17hh :: 7 Years [Tallsun] HP: 67.5 | Buff: NOVICE |
| Jen |
Little defective colt becomes aware of shadow covering his form, and begins to hear soft whispers of truths. The facts seem to emanate from the base of his skull, and he feels an almost painful ring with each word spoken that is not said in the open air. Three squabble over what is right and wrong, who can take the blame or credit for deeds long done, and he grows weary. He is unable to continue drinking, and as the sensation of pressure lessens against the back of his neck, he feels a weak fatigue overtake him. His mother had pressed him down, and yet with all his might he had rejected the idea and resisted. Now, left to his own devices, he feels spent, and his head falls limply from his shoulders. Like a soldier fallen on a battlefield, he allows his face to be covered in blood as he lies still in the pool, waiting for the sensation to end and death to come.
He does not know what death is, but if it is the absence of this pain, he longs for it more than he has longed for anything before in his brief and tragic life. Somewhere, if only instinctively, he is basely aware of the fact that he is alive, and he knows that he is not very much enjoying the experience thus far. Surely its counterpart will give him relief- the voices seem to urge him towards it, as they once did to many others.
His silver blue eyes open and he sees towering figures around him, all seeming faintly familiar in that they appear connected to the figure that has led him to this place. He hears the lone one speak and say a word he has never before heard. He wonders if the strange mare is indeed "mother." There is a connection between the word and the relationship he has with the mare, and suddenly the first false associative bond of what is 'normal' is forged.
There is a silence that is cold and bitter, and he watches as he lies still upon the ground, feeling weak and frozen in place. Mother calls to the largest stallion among them and names him, and suddenly the colt knows who his brother is. He hears an order he cannot understand, but even as the voices cackle distressingly and warn him against such attachments, he feels a warmth towards the massive stallion that he cannot describe. One he has never felt before, and cannot yet name, but a sensation nonetheless. He lifts a weak head, dripping with blood, from the puddle and reaches out a soft and tender nose to greet the strangest of the stallions as Mandrake gives Vincent his duty. He longs for the thrill of the gentle touch not of the bridle, which lies upon the ground, glowing faintly as it relishes in its new-found freedom, but of the massive beast before him.
img © nereis01 |
Casimir eased as Evers and the other brothers joined them, however still lacking three members of the family. His mouth and nose filled with the scent of blood anf family, the memories the same and the link so close. Casi dipped his head low, sniffing the earth to relieve his nostrils of the iron-like scent. He breathed in dirt, letting it hold back the beast his heart and mind tore into. His head shot up as Mandrake spoke, his sightless eye rolling back as his head swung in the direction of Vincent. He held in his sigh of relief, feeling sympathy for the taller twin but also feeling a sting of joy that the black widow had not requested anything of him.
Tentatively, Casimir took a step towards Knox--the blind stallion needed to know his younger brother and take in the things he would recognize him by. He knew getting his scent would be hard because of the overpowering pool of blood he was being bathed in, but he could try anyways. Dipping his head low once more Casimir's ears twitched as he let his nose guide him to the small colt. Bumping into the small black creature Casi ran his muzzle over its body, blood smearing into his ashy white hair. He snorted, and side-stepped away from the colt, trotting wide around the Sentinel's corpse and brushing his tail over Mandrake and dipping his head respectfully before taking stand near Evers.
| Absent Abyss atk: 6.0 | def: 9.5 | dam: 8 |
| Stallion :: Equine :: 18.3 hh :: 10 years HP: 80 | Buff: SHIELD |
|
Loretta :: Alaskan Malamute :: Time Slip
Time |
Archibald stood proudly, guarding his family carefully as Loretta stalked in and out of his legs. Finally the red bitch found a place to sit and watched everything. Archibald let his golden eyes follow to each brother as they glided in. Casimir behind him, obediently, followed by Evers (whom took cover near Casimir), and finally to Vincent. His eyes hardened a bit before softening as the twin took refuge beside him. Loretta lowered her head, knowing the twins were okay to be so close--but only the twins. Archibald pressed his shoulder into his twin's, gently swinging his head to press his muzzle into his neck to move him away as Mandrake's command screeched out.
The draft watched as Casimir stepped forward, the blind youngster doing his ritual of knowing the new brother. Archibald let his gaze fall on the colt. Small and defective now, falling into a large and defective world--however, Archibald knew Mandrake wouldn't him stay small and defective, not even Casimir was small and defective he was a grown warrior like the rest of his family. The stallion let out a snort, stomping away pesky flies that buried themselves into his feathers.
| Hidden Account |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 15.2hh :: 12 Buff: NOVICE |
|
Rita :: Greyhound :: Water Mold
imi |
Evers watched proceedings with an expressionless face. He was the eldest brother there and knew his mothers ways. He didn't know whether to feel happy at a new sibling or sad that the act he was put through wasn't as shocking to the scholar as it ought to be. He felt numb. Numb to all feeling in her presence. The little blue did as she said and was pleased they had succeeded in their duties this time. Casimir moved away from him and took his own part in the 'ceremony' of Knox, many may pity Knox... But if had been born a filly. Evers shuddered at the thought and pushed it away. He would be a strong son he was sure, especially with Roanne's blood in him.
Sighing, Evers turned his attention to Vincent. He had been the late one, which was probably why Mandrake had picked on him. He smiled warmly at the pair of twins, happy to see them together again. Archibald had been looking for him for so long after all. He flicked his stump of a tail and turned to his mother "he will fill that out nicely in time" Evers motioned to the bridle of the fallen Sentinel. Mother would make sure of it. She always did.
|
| Outcast |
| Stallion :: Equine :: 19.0 :: 10 Buff: NOVICE |
|
Claribel :: Irish Wolfhound :: None
Sparrow |
He is commanded - move - out from the touch of brother's flesh and the warmth of breath spreading across his thick neck. Mother's voice now quivers in his bones, above the tug and pull of many bodies, many spaces, many intellects now striving for the youth at their center. Mother's sound compels him, and the black beast shivers with what might be warning - or just fear. The glare of yellow eyes moves for an instant to his twin, and then to Evers, ever practical, ever the clipped voice of reason and intelligence. Go, says the motion of this elder brother. Do your duty. He ought not delay, but hesitation sets inside his bones like concrete. For a heart beat he would die to be invisible - to be as nothing underneath her stare.
A sigh, to stir his ribs. The tramp of heavy feet runs muffled by leaf litter but the giant moves, a shadow among shadows, somehow revolted by the scent of blood. It gleams almost black below him, near the body of one sad and grey - a father, thrown aside as fathers are. He has no time to think of it; he watches Mother, who curls like a snake just near enough to strike. His teeth move for the warmth of worn leather - the taste of sweat, the tang of red that might be black here in the dark. He lifts up and it drags - a noise like dead feet in the night. He startles, a twitch of heavy muscle just below the quiet black of coarse hide. This thing tastes like the dead, like some black magic bound to rot within his mouth, to make him never clean.
But the foal.
His mouth is a mess of straps pulled from dead flesh, loose on a splotched face, cooling around dead eyes. He swings toward the foal without grace, with only the barest semblance of control, and stops to stare down into its strange eyes - reckless, innocent, yearning. He must have been so small once, but he fears to break its tiny legs, to shatter more blood and more bones and deaden yet more eyes. The smell of blood fills him with flight. The pressure set by muted expectation rattles back and forth between his ears. With a grunt, a flip of his head, he jerks for the boy - a rattling of leather and the clank of a metal rings. His teeth release and the bridle falls toward Knox's face - a task half done, and let go too soon. He has terrified himself and so he startles back, his pale eyes lifting to Archibald - no doubt angry - and to Mother - murderous. He ought to run. He knows better than to run. He reaches down to push the boy's face, to fix what he's ruined, to force stitched leather over tiny ears. The boy reeks of his sire's blood and Mother, too. It reeks of afterbirth and he hates the terrible emtpiness of its eyes.
|
| Deceased |
| Mare :: Equine :: 15.3 :: 15 |
| Alex |
|
Mandrake sat watching each of her sons in turn as they watched Knox have his first meal. Casimir was the first to approach and Mandrake's eyes narrowed as she watched him do his blind ritual. She blamed him for his blindness. If he hadn't been stupid and utterly useles he would still have the use of his eye. She felt no guilt in having attacked and punished him. It had taught him a lesson about obeying her. Perhaps one day he'd even end up being a good warrior.
Evers and Archibald remained silent as they watched, save for Evers' comment about the bridle. She nodded once before shifting her gaze to Vincent who was frozen in place. He was becoming a disappointment to her. When she'd given birth to him and Archibald she'd had high hopes for the both of them. Archibald had risen to the occasion, made her proud, but Vincent had not. He was built thickly like the rest of her sons, but she considered him weak.
"Vincent!" She hissed, rising to all fours again. "Do as I said! Remove the bridle and place it on your brother." Claws extended and dug into the earth. Finally the draft began to move and Mandrake calmed. She watched as he finally got the bridle off of Roanne's mutilated head and draped it over Knox's head. The jaguar smiled and slinked around the foal, inspecting him. "Perfect."
|
 |
| Outcast atk: 4 | def: 7.5 | dam: 6.5 |
| Stallion :: Equine :: 17hh :: 7 Years [Tallsun] HP: 67.5 | Buff: NOVICE |
| Jen |
Little defective colt balks as his blind brother approaches, greeted first by the horrific sight of the torn and scarred eye. His hide twitches beneath Casimir's gentle touch, his gaze flies wildly and desperately towards his mother. He should know better than to expect that she will lead him to safety, just as he should know better than to shy away from his brother. The hot breath of the blind ghost soon shifts from a threat to a comfort, and he lifts his own nose up to greet his mother's great disappointment. Well, the first of them, anyway.
The second unicorn of his family speaks calmly, his voice soothing and seeming to dull the overwhelming sense of death. He lets his weak eyes focus on the roan, and attempts to lift himself up from the earth, but slips in the thick puddle of blood. The sick substance splashes up and nearly blinds him, but he remains silent. He knows, somewhere deep within himself, instinctively, that to make a sound of complaint in the presence of his mother would be a foolish act indeed.
The massive black stallion who he will later learn to call Vincent approaches with a heavy stride, but somehow manages to make it a nervous one. Even with his new eyes the colt can see the shocking resemblance between Vincent and Archibald- though at such a time, he's far from capable of being shocked by anything. He feels no emotion, nothing but a sense of cold in his heart and fading heat pooling around his legs.
He watches with strange and twisted interest as the body of the Sentinel is further defiled and the bridle is torn from his bloody features. He feels it hit his face suddenly, and fails to control the instinctive cry. He makes a noise almost like a high pitched bray, and stands firmly, shaking his head with shut eyes to rid himself of the thing. Perhaps something within him knows it will bring him nothing but trouble.
His older brother's grip, firm and strong, pulls the bridle over the last bit of his face, and there it hangs, ill-fitting, a bright, contrasting white that glows a faint green at the touch of his skin. He feels strong- he does not realize the significance of the leather wrapped around his nose and neck. The colt turns and looks up at his mother with the cold blue gray eyes of his parents. He looks with nothing but sheer respect in his gaze.
img © nereis01 |
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