"I really have been blessed recently."

The Nightshade watched the painted mare, it always seemed the equine was truly the dumbest race in the book. She looked angry and pitiful, the same height as himself but d'Artagnan felt no inferiority before her. A colourful liquid, so carefully prepared, dripped from his horn. If mixed with the blood it would ensnare the senses and cause a painful death, draining the life of the victim bit by bit until they finally drew their last breath. A fate that the shade intended for this mare, who seemed to be inspecting the ground. Where she would be if the red got his way, eyes hungry to exterminate a race who stained the earth with their impurity.

This is it. The start of my revenge.

The thought echoed around his mind, the shade allowing it to fill him with ecstasy. She may not be directly involved in the invasion or responsible for taking his home away from him, but she would start a chain of events. It had taken some time, but d'Artagnan had finally built up his resolve and the plague was slowly returning to strength. The time had come to lead by example.

He danced into a trot which powered into a canter and finally an mad gallop. Mind completely lost in the thrill of the kill. Horn bared, poison slick on its glass, he aimed it to strike her shoulder. Should he succeed, the world would have one less equine in it.

[I've worded it so it could be any slow working poison that will eventually kill her. If you look here there's a list of deadly plants if you'd like her to show symptoms of being poisoned by one of them. ^^ Sorry it's so short and shabby, but I've not had much time and I wanted to put something up <3]

Whose gunna dig you out when you're
s i x f e e t u n d e r

"Die."

d'Artagnan watched the affects of his poison with intense fascination. A mass of dark hair fumbled about his neck as he had struggled to remain standing, the shade honestly hadn't expected the mare to go down so quickly. Nostrils wide and blowing with adrenaline. It was clear the mare was dying, she lay in a mess of her own bodily fluids. Her bodice heaving as the poison took its effect, blood now beginning to pour and finally the mare once known as Brooke died. Rigid with no sign of life and covered in her own blood.

It was an odd feeling, standing over a corpse and looking down with blank eyes. d'Artagnan did not know the mare nor did she deserve her fate, but the shade didn't care. It had satisfied his needs for now and it was about time he poisoned one of the wretched hornless. His pact with the Earth allowed him this ability as long as he healed one in return, it never occurred to the shade that he might heal more than he poisons. With one last look at the dead Brooke, d'Art turned and headed North, back to the snowy wastes of hell.

One day, the Edge will suffer a similar fate to the painted femme. No longer will they be banished. The Nightshade looked at the blood that stained his hooves and made an oath on it, the day would come. They would all be sorry.

[-cries- poor brooke D:]

Whose gunna dig you out when you're
s i x f e e t u n d e r