CORMAC the BARBARIAN
Hooves clip and clop, eyes lower and nostrils exhale, puffing slightly in mild annoyance; ears flick and eyes glow amber. The stallion enjoys the cold after his long time spent encased in mild waters; enjoys the true taste of sun on his skin, and he carries on in quiet joy of life. Life! Alas, what a wonderful thing! He missed this, the scent of summer under the water fighting off blasted sharks.
He missed the blue skies with foamy white clouds like today. He missed the birds singing and the owls hooting and the grinning eye of the sun. He missed his plans of domination and wicked things, ideas of herds and leaders. The Pirates have mostly fallen apart, except for four others; Aerwela, Erigor, Quilyan, Corsair, and... one other, wasn't there?
Five. Five was a puny number, a tiny one; too large to integrate into a herd and rebel from inside, and too small to tackle a herd alone. Of course, the key word was alone there; they could figure something out. Him and the unicorns of the North. Surely they would want their revenge on beasts; he heard the rumor or two, even, of those who were racist. No, that was just his mind, that was a lie. Of course, if that was true, it would certainly be extremely convienant.
His tail flicks as he goes up and around the winding path to the herd. A bargain, that's what he has in mind, an alliance. A pirate has no "low"; they have no ethical code of conduct, or similar. It simply was begging, bartering, black-mailing, more bargaining, more fighting, more fighting, and a little bit of begging; and then you get to the answer.
[ooc: i would appreciate if this wasn't flooded with characters :) just because posting order can be difficult then]
ar ar ar
a pirate's life for me
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Psyche the DarkEmpress Posts: 380
| Deceased |
| Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 hh :: 8 (ages in Orangemoon) Buff: ENDURE |
| RayoDeSoleil |
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Some may argue that there is no such thing as a 'good' mood for Psyche the Dark Empress. And she might agree with them, depending on their definition of the word 'good'. Did she have days where she felt loving, warm, and fuzzy? No. She did not. Did she have days where she was almost happy? Yes. And today just so happened to be one of those days. Her herd meeting had gone quite well only a few days prior, Mauja had returned (though his role in her lands was still a bit questionable, as were his feelings, if any, for her), and the Basin had been in peace. For perhaps the first time, she felt as though she had gained her herd's support and loyalty. She felt as though she had proven her leadership to them, even if she could not convert them to her beliefs.
So perhaps this is why she did not immediately fall screeching on the equine stallion that seemed to have slipped past her border patrols. Perhaps this is why she did not rush to send him packing. Instead, she eyed him from where she was and set out at a leisurely trot. He was a dark, sooty bay, scarred in many places across his bodice. A fighter, she told herself. Golden eyes, a few shades lighter than her amber orbs, stood in contrast to his dark pelt. A blaze and a single sock marred his pelt. He would be stupid to attack her, and she would easily have reinforcements if she chose to attack him. Not that she needed them. She snorted. No, she most certainly could take care of herself.
Drawing closer, she took note of smaller details - a half-torn ear, a ruggedly attractive face - but lacking the crown that would have made him welcome here. Still, her mood carried, and she halted in front of him, watching at him imperiously. "You are not welcome here." It was rude, yes, but it was a far cry from the silken, poisonous web of her lyrics when she was angry, farther still from the banshee's shrieks that flew from her throat when she was furious. Still, her face was a cool mask, and deceit sparked in her eyes. "Perhaps you know this, though," she mused aloud, her orbs flickering again over his scarred body. "I doubt you'd have lived through all those battles if you were stupid. Unless you're just all brawn and no brains. Which is it?"
[W/C | xxx]
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Walk walk walk.
"Talk talk talk."
Think think think.
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![[Image: psycheicon.png]](http://i800.photobucket.com/albums/yy285/schwartze_asylum/psycheicon.png)
Please feel free to tag me in all replies!
Use of force and/or magic (with the exception of death) is allowed at all times.
CORMAC the BARBARIAN
Cormac is approached swiftly, and it's a dark shape at first, hardly more than a shadowy blot against pale stone and green-gray grass; and then the form seems to truly materialize, into the shape of a blackened mare. Her head is split with a gnarled, twisted horn, like that of a shriveled tree branch, except tree branches don't have crimson runes at their bases; neither are they attacked to a surprisingly seamless inky body, or a white-blazed forehead, nor pale socks on obsidian feet. Quiet eyes he watches with, something guarded carefully in their amber depths; he waits for her to greet him, or order him out, whatever she cares for.
The dark mare's voice is confident, silky, and utterly disdainful; clearly, a leader. Cormac's body softens even more so, and he allows a smile to creep along his mouth. "Good day." He says first, before answering any of her questions. It's all part of the game. "I would like to say both, of course, but really it's up to you." The stallion pauses, collecting his thoughts. Despite the small numbers, he would still need to double the force, even with allies; and that is counting on her help, which he has not spoken to her nor offered.
"I am Cormac. I was hoping to make a bargain with you." Patience is a virtue, they say, but Cormac continues on anyways. "I would like to enlist you and your herd's help to invade a specific herdland. My numbers are small, pathetically small; so I would have to do building first. But I wanted to speak to you early." Whether he, exactly, intends to follow through on his 'bargains' is a moot point, as is... everything with him. Amber eyes flit upwards to the blue skies, and there within hope flares briefly. Is the sweet, young sky of beginnings an omen? There are no clouds to fetter it, and the wind is soft and clean on the coat.
ar ar ar
a pirate's life for me
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Psyche the DarkEmpress Posts: 380
| Deceased |
| Mare :: Unicorn :: 15.3 hh :: 8 (ages in Orangemoon) Buff: ENDURE |
| RayoDeSoleil |
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She wondered why so few equines valued their lives.
Not long ago, it had been the bumbling draft mare, Tor, who had wandered unannounced into her terrain. She had no reason for being there, and was ultimately saved by a last act of friendship. The shadow-mare had watched the exchange between Ophelia and the painted moron with amusement, idly wondering if there was as much disquiet amongst the rest of the Grey as there was between those two. Tor had been spared in return for an Earth amulet. Said amulet swung easily around the Dark Empress' neck now, an addition to the Spark amulet that she had found in her lands. It was a double layer of protection, layers that she appreciated. One could never be too careful.
The price for Tor's escape had been low - too low, in her opinion. But she had dared not risk offending the mercenary group that had grown to surprisingly large proportions within Helovia. Even she did not know their true numbers, but she knew that with the range of services they offered, their size much be vast. Besides, she refused to ally with any of the other herds, so it would undoubtedly only hurt her if she offended a group that she may well have use of in the future. Not that she liked them. They accepted everyone - clearly, as the stupid Tor had once been one of them. And now here this hornless came, smelling of salt and sea and gods know what else.
At least she could kill him. He was not important to her. Such were her thoughts as he greeted her with a false cheerfulness - or so she assumed, as she had just insulted him. To be truly happy after that was a mark of stupidity or madness, both qualities of the lesser species, so it really wouldn't have surprised her - but she was rather hoping for a more entertaining game. When he spoke of a bargain, she tilter her head to the side, regarding him with shrewd amber eyes, feigning disinterest. But in reality, she was quickly becoming very interested in the possibilities of an alliance - however false - with a group that meant to overthrow an existing herd. Could she trust him to honor a bargain? Doubtful. But did that mean that she had to keep her word, in the event one was made? Of course not.
Things were certainly getting interesting. "Darling," she began with a poisonous smile, "if you expect assistance, you will have to be a bit more specific. What land are you planning to invade, and just how small are your current numbers?"
[W/C | xxx]
|
Walk walk walk.
"Talk talk talk."
Think think think.
|
|
Please feel free to tag me in all replies!
Use of force and/or magic (with the exception of death) is allowed at all times.
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