The Devil Cries
All through the night

"As I run through the glass in the street, with Kerosene hearts"

The ebony stallion stallion stopped on the edge of the land of Helovia. HE had heard many rumors about his place, of the magic, and strength the inhabitants carried. He never believed in such stuff, even though he had a pair of wings sitting solemnly on his shoulders. His shoulders seemed to carry a lot besides just physical weight. He he carried the many lives he has taken upon his shoulders as well, every poor soul, clinging to him to regain their life. The snow was melting and new flowers and life began to spring up. He hated spring, he hated it because it was beautiful, he hated beauty and everything about it. It reminded him of his long lost love, the only mare who had ever seemed to understand the poor stallion, and understand his heartache.

"Carry the name that my father gave me, And take the face of the wolf"

The stallions name was Dúchanar. A well muscled black stallion. He had several red marks on his bodice, the color of blood. His face, ever so cold, his expression never changing, an icy feel, just like his soul. The dark stallions long legs stretched out in front of him as he entered the threshold. There was no turning back now, and he knew it. He figured this could be a new start, but who ever said second chances really did exist? Especially for someone like himself, he doubted every step. He saw his fathers face in his, a grown horse, resembling the very man he hated, the man who ruined his life, the man who made him the way he is now.

"Cause this is a wasteland, my only retreat
With heaven above you, there's hell over me"

A low snort exited the stallions muzzle. He looked slightly to the side, his pace slow. He looked around the area for another horse. He really did not feel like confronting anyone or anything. He wanted to be alone, where it was quiet. But when he was a lone, he often would get lost in his mind, oh his mind, the darkest place anyone could imagine. He hated getting lost in thought, his mind often trailing back to that dreadful day. The day he hated most, the day he relives every time he closed his ice blue eyes. His eyes were the color of his mothers, and oh, how she was beautiful. Its been said when you look into his eyes, you see nothing, as though he is soulless. You see anger, bitterness, ignorance, and a cold heart, but also sorrow, and hurting. He closed his eyes and leaned against a narrow tree that shot up towards the sky, as if reaching to the gods themselves. HAH that was a joke, the gods, who are they to depict what he can and cant be or do, the only reason people listen to them is because they are powerful, take all that power away, and they are nothing, just little specs of dirt in a universe so big. He shoved his head against the bark, scarring the tree slightly as a small drop of blood drizzled down his white face.

The Devil Cries
All through the night

"I kissed the scars on her skin, I still think you're beautiful"

Dúchanar closed his eyes. Thoughts of his mother filled his mind. Her beautiful face, running around with him in a field of yellow flowers. Her long white mane flapping in the wind. Her smile, oh so lovely. He remembered her telling him how much she loved him and how handsome he was. He missed her so much. He missed her love, and her purity. He remembered vividly her face, covered in scars from his father, but some how she remained beautiful in his eyes. He also remembered the night she died. Her white coat seeping red.

I screamed out, "God, you vulture,Bring her back or take me with her'

He shoved his face harder against the tree trying to rid the memories. His mind filled with darkness and hatred. He remembered looking into his fathers eyes before he killed him. The first of many to come. He turned him evil, and dark. He only imagined what kind of stallion he would be if his father had never done what he did. He didn't care though. He liked the way he was now. Or was it all a safeguard?

"Tear it down, break the barricade, I want to see what sound it makes, I hate this flavor with a passion and I fucking hate the aftertaste"

He heard the dark stallions words behind him. He quickly turned to face him. His lip curled back, showing his teeth. Whatever it is it surely is not from the likes of you he snorted. Just great, exactly what he didn't want. Someone to talking to him, especially another stallion. The other stood quite taller than him but that didn't shy him away. He growled slightly. What is it exactly that YOU are looking for? his eyes locked onto his staring directly into them, his gaze not stirring away.

"Pretend like I don't entice you, I've seen you circling the sky above my head,You traitor"

Hector powered his body into a churning gallop and soon his large wings had him airbourne, destination Threshold. It had been some time since the stud had carried out his duties in recruiting and he had much to make up for, the warm air of the heated seasons was welcome on his brown coloured feathers. Even to the pegasus of the Throat he would be an unusual sight, two horns defined him impure to the winged race and less obvious was his genes that connected him to the equine. He was large, 18hh of thick muscle, a long whipping lion tail hung low as he flew. Another connection to the horses that roamed the lands in fantasy stories. His bulk was defined by his the way he carried himself, like a trained warrior his head was always held a little higher, wings powered with practised aplomb. Lastly was his almost flurecent orange hair, his mane stood up on his neck, rubbed and jagged. Nestled in the curl of his lion tail, keeping it safe whilst in flight, was an egg he'd found in the oasis of the Throat, left and unwanted Hector had taken it in. He took it everywhere with him, protective in an almost fatherly way but also out of curiosity. When the time came, what would be born out of it? Hector had never seen an egg before, they didn't exist where he came from, just wild lions and blood thirsty wolves.

Desert turned to grass and in turn the grass turned to dense forest, as he neared the Threshold he took his flight lower. Peering through the branches, looking for travellers or friends.

It so happened he chanced to cross two other pegasus, one with significantly smaller wings that Hector wondered how on earth the poor soul couldn't possibly get airbourne, if at all. With a body of bulk like his own, hairier than he making him wonder if the stud was from one of the colder lands. His own fur not as thick due to the arid desert he came from. The other steed painted in coal and alabaster with hints of crimson, lithe in build with strange leathery wings. Intrigued by the pair, Hector glided expertly through a gap in the trees and allowed gravity to slowly take him to the ground, finally he stood on his equine hooves before the pair. Proffering his head in welcome to both, catching the end of Dúchanar's rather rude reply.

"I don't care for your tone, stranger" his booming voice was filled with disapproval. The scent of the World's Edge was indeed on the pelt of the small winged stud and Hector moved alongside him in a show of support for an ally. Ears flickered to the loud mouthed other and he gave a look to the pegasus (who was quite older than himself) that was full of critisizm but said nothing. Confident in his ability and, in comparison to Hector, the elder chap was but an ant in his path. Which he would squash if necessary.

Not really the way he wanted to start back into recruiting, but it was hardly Hector's fault that he just managed to run into a rather ignorant brute.

The Devil Cries
All through the night

"Does it even make a difference? When I'm sober, I feel pain"

The darker stallion heard a sound from above. It sounded to him like something flying. His thoughts were only soon to be confirmed as a clearly bigger stallion landed behind him. Two small horns stuck out abruptly from his face. His hair was a fiery orange. Duch had just finished his words to the other male, whos name he had not yet caught, and by the words of the new male, Duch knew his words were heard.

I screamed out, "'Cause we run under the stars through cemetery backyards, Celebrate the way the night hides scars."

"I don't care for your tone, stranger". Duch smirked slightly at his words. Was he trying to act tough? And did it look like he really cared for the others opinion on his "tone" He shook his head slightly before turning to look at the other stallion, but before he could say anything, the other male spoke as well, his words meaning something, and not just criticizing the way Duch was, he spoke in a manor that suited Duch's liking. He spoke truth, and honesty, and he was very simple, not much of a threat, but very intelligent.

"Separate me from my own two hands, I've killed so many times"

Duch's gaze remained on the larger brute who spoke harsh words towards him. Does it really LOOK to you like I entirely give a shit about what you might possibly think about my "tone" fair brute? I could honestly care less as of what you think of me, who I am, is entirely NONE of your business. You do not intimidate me. And as for you. He said turning to look at Thor. I like the way you speak your words. Your words entice me. I do not need your assistance or "help" or your pity. As for maybe a home, I could do with that. But as for your help or you friendship. Neither of you count on it His strong Australian accent shining through every word he spoke. He was feeling awfully kind at this moment and not looking for any trouble. For even an ignorant brute can tell when the favor is against him.

"Cause sometimes I love the way you swing the blade at everything in sight"

Hector grew increasingly annoyed with the crimson stained stranger and he looked to Thor with hints of surprise. Would the Worlds Edge really accept such a selfish animal, take him in and call him their own. His face flickered back to the brute and his vibrant, orange eyes glowered in irritation. There was nothing remotely loyal or friendly about him so far, Hector thought him loud mouthed and dim, the type who would stab you in the back later. Who walks into a land they don't know and talk with such arrogance, even to Thor who was kind enough to offer a home again. Leonine tail itched to whip into the air and would if it wasn't coiled protectively round his egg. He took in deep breathes and tried to follow Thor's example of remaining calm and keeping control of his temper. He did manage to note the strange tone of his voice, an accent he'd never heard and it made him wonder of which hell hole this dolt had crawled out of.

Swallowing once again Hector got hold of himself and considered his next words, something told him this stud didn't quite do diplomacy. More like he said what first came into his head and then blurt it out, Hector took in air and spoke his mind "such a selfish nature would never do well in a herd. You're the kind who would die choking on his own arrogant words. Why should you be trusted?" Hector scoffed, he tried to imagine his other herd mates if he brought the little shit back with him.

That was all he said for now and awaited to see what Thor would do. He admired his persistency but he hoped it wouldn't drive him to take the risk with this fool. Maybe it was just Hector, brought up under stern watch and tight rules. His acceptance bar raised higher by strict upbringing, yet, he couldn't bring himself to act kindly to this stranger with a foul mouth. An gentle smile was offered to Thor, if anything he should offer his name, even if not all who were present were polite. "Hector of the Dragons Throat" he offered to his ally, not caring if the idiot before them heard.

The Devil Cries
All through the night

"Can we create something beautiful and destroy it? Nobody knows I dream about it, this is my imagination."

Duch watched as the larger male conversed his name to the other. Hector, the name was short and un-elegant, in his opinion. Hectors words were annoying. Not do good in a herd? If only he knew. He watched as Thor began to speak as well, also expressing his name. Duch was the only one who had not stated his name, but what use was names?

"You were screaming till the police came."

Duch took a few steps back so he could look at both other males equally. Well, Hector, you see, ones heart does not merely grow so cold without reasoning. If only you knew of ones past, you could tell why one is the way they are, but some simply hold in all their hate, and become something... well... selfish and mean. Do not not critique me until you know my story sir. For I have seen far greater evil than i'm sure either of you have put together. As for being in a herd? Once you gain my trust, you gain my life, i would die for those who i care about, and kill all others who cross me. I am no betrayer, surely I am mean, but no nark. So do I like you? No, but will i double cross you? No. SO I suggest that you keep your mouth shut sir unless you know exactly WHY I am the way I am.

"If every living thing dies alone,what am I doing here?"

He snorted slightly and left his sentence at that. He had nothing left to say to either brute, Except for his name. He figured since both others stated their names he would state his. I am Dúchanar, prince of a land that you have never heard of.

"I laid down, I drank the poison then I passed the fuck out."

OOC: Do you guys read the lyrics or no?

Hector stood in agreement with Thor, he had a little more tact than the Throat Soldier did who simply put things bluntly like a typical warrior. Maybe he would learn the art of crafting beautiful words to sound nice on others ears, but for now that skill would have to wait. For the obsidian stud before him had replied, the tone still the same but the story surprisingly one he could relate to. An ironic smile began to play on his lips as it dawned on Hector that this ones past may not be that different from his own, he wondered if this Duchanar was outcast like he was or if he simply chose to walk away from his own home. His leonine tail flicked as his gaze turned thoughtful and considered the stranger before him, certainly he had a tone that Hector wanted to bray out of him and an infuriating way with words that was bound to play havoc with his blood pressure. However, he softened his voice a little when he next spoke, his words quieter than the last time as he tried to bring peace to this little fight that was brewing.

"A Prince with a past huh? Maybe you and I are not so different after all. I too am a Prince from a land that you have never heard of with a past your better off not hearing of. But I extend the same courtesy to yourself, I don't like your tone and don't expect me to like you either. However, the Dragons Throat lies to the south and is built on strong foundations with a both respected and feared Leader, if what you say is true you'd probably fit in better than I first thought."

That was that. He'd managed to reign himself in to calmly offer him solitude in the Dragons Throat, though he knew the luck was more with his ally Thor who this Duchanar seemed more fonder of. Hector picked up his egg again and wove it around his orange haired leonine tail, safely tucked in as he knew flight would be soon. This boy would choose his own destination and then Hector will be homeward bound. Whether he on his own or with company was as of yet undecided.

[ooc; Not really Darq, it'd probably be better if you just put a link in to a YouTube video at the end so we know where your inspiration comes from :3]