Winter was a bitter season. It sacked the earth with its stone-cold fists of ice and snow. It screamed its fury in the form of a fierce gale. It killed the beauty that its sister seasons had worked so hard to nurture and protect during their reign over the earth. But, most of all, it was very much like the wandering king. Merciless. Fierce. Silent. His golden coat did not blend well with his surroundings, but it did not matter in the eternal darkness that had come.

The brute didn't know if he appreciated this sudden lack of light just yet; it hid his scarred face and retreating form, but it also hid his enemies inside the folds of its coal black cloak. The fact that the tyrant had no idea where he was didn't help, either, and his teeth gnashed in frustration. He wasn't normally a clumsy bloke -- his movements were controlled and precise -- but the lack of light was causing him to stumble in the deep snow and unfamiliar terrain. He had even managed to trip over Guns once, who had forgotten to keep out of the buckskin's way as he fumbled around in the dark. He didn't have the collie's excellent vision, after all.

A warning growl sounds in the darkness at the stallion's hip, and the Incendiary halts to peer into the blank expanse ahead of him. His naves work furiously to detect something, anything, in the space in front of them that they actually manage to let a few soft snorts out. A flash of anger flares up in the quarter horse, but he smoothly lets the moment pass. The damage is done.

Giving a low, commanding whistle, the dog at his heel lurches forwards and flings himself into the darkness, his paws making barely any sound as they pound against the snow. Unlike his master, his movements are wild. The black-and-white pelt that adorns his body shifts effortlessly over his shifting form as he climbs the steeply-sloped hill. His legs are a silent flurry of activity as they drag him closer to his prey. A dark nose takes in the scent of the intruder that his brown eyes had detected, and he confirms the creature to be the same species as his master. Perhaps now he won't be so bitter. His thoughts are as dark as the night that conceals him. A low growl presses against his black lips, and he presses his belly against the snow in a crouch.

At the sound of the gundog's voice, Ricochet urged his numbing legs into a lope, both to climb the hill faster and to warm himself up for any potential spar. He will not admit it to himself, but secretly that is what he hopes for; a good fight to take out all of his frustration. His past meeting with the new superiors of the Foothills had ultimately ended in his own embarassment, for he had been tossed out again by the very same group that had banished him in the past. The very thought of his horrible luck in not meeting with his nephew -- as he had planned -- causes the Incendiary's blood to boil. What right did they have to remove him from his home, anyway? It had been his to rule before, just as it will be his to rule again. Perhaps this darkness was indeed a blessing; who can see an army coming when it is hidden in shadow?

With sweat dotting his arched nape, Ricochet pulled himself to the crest of the hill and searched the apex of his climb with his dual pools of ice. He is shocked to find that it is not completely dark here, but he pushes the feeling to the back of his mind. Teal eyes had taken hold of the outline of a shadowed figure, and the stallion's innate instinct to challenge the force that opposed him replaced his surprise. The Incendiary's voice is deep and commanding when he bellows, "It's dangerous for ladies to be out so late, miss."

"Ricochet"

Hardened blue eyes sweep across the shadowed plains of the approaching mare's figure. The faint glow of the distant lamptree does not make it much easier to see, but the brute's attention to detail is flawless, and he can see that this creature is starving. Her current state of distress would make it much easier for him for to take her down in a fight, but his own starving body groans in protest. The cold has grasped the Incendiary in its numbing grip, and his own ribs poke out from his thick coat in signs of malnourishment. It would be in his best interest to leave the equine alone for now; she may even prove to be his ally in the future.

Her words bring light to the eerie atmosphere that surrounds them, and Ricochet leans into the blasting gale as he calls in response, "Then your eyes deceive you, miss." And I am much obliged. It has been moons since anyone has referred to the power that he had once held, and he finds that his body is not shivering from the cold. He is shivering from the pleasure that this fae's words bring to his ears. The idea of dragging this poor girl around to hear her speak words of praise for him is all too tempting for the stallion, so he ruins the moment with more of his bitterness.

"I am not handsome. My friends have made sure to ruin that." A thin black tail slaps against hollow dunskin sides. "I appreciate your comments, though, Kahlua of the Edge." His teal eyes drag slowly over her starving body as if he is hungry for her. In truth, however, he is trying to keep the equine occupied while her words transport him into his memories. I have not heard of the land I fought to overrun in months. Is it chance that this mare is coming to me now, or is it fate? If the throneless king could not take hold of his former kingdom, then perhaps he would have to settle for another realm that he had shed blood for, once, instead.

"I am Ricochet the Incendiary. Pleased to meet you, ma'am." The quarter horse dips his barbed head in greeting, and he finds that he is pleased to have met this unfamiliar equine. Since his return to Helovia, he had only managed to fester at old wounds, and it was high time that he made new ones. If befriending this mare was the next step he was required to take on his new path to glory, then so be it. He was tired of running away from the ghosts of his past.

"Does the DragonHeart still lead the Edge, or has she stepped down from her reign in my absence?"

{OOC: Super late, but I really wanted to get something up for you. His attitude kind of changed randomly because I'm so tired, expect the old Rico in a future reply. x.x}

"Ricochet"

The crisp winter breeze flew past the grazing stallion, tossing the wild and burnt hairs of his mane as it ran its icy fingers through it. Although the temperature of the air up here was much cooler than that below, the wind did not buffer his dunskin sides nor coat him with a fine layer of snow. Kahlua was smart to have come to this place.

Tearing at what sparse grass there was, the tyrant made sure to keep his sharp ears attuned to the sounds of the foraging fae. His past experience with women had taught him that they were as random as they were volatile, and his back twitches at the painful memories he has of one vixen in particular. Histe. The mare who called forth acid from the clouds and laid siege to all who defied her. Was it unreasonable for him to find that he missed the devilish mare's company?

Nonchalantly giving a short, almost unnoticeable whistle, the cunning warlord signaled to his dog to creep behind the ignorant mare. Guns obeyed immediately -- the collie wasn't one to defy the explosive stallion's command -- and silently rose from the ground, the long fur on his legs swaying side to side as he stealthily crept behind the painted fae. Ricochet watched the dog out of the corner of his eye, and gave a loud snort as if to express his praise.

Their method of communication was uncommon to Helovia, but when the Incendiary realized that they would never share a bond, he had come up with a language of their own by which they could speak. Or, in Ricochet's case, a way to give out orders that Guns would obey.

Waves of disgust course through his pale body at the mare's words, but he was not surprised to hear that Mirage had elected a winged monstrosity to rule alongside her. She was the leader of the Qian, afterall; he had had to put up with her 'equal rights for every species' campaign once, and he was certain -- albeit outraged -- that he could do it again. Well, at least I know that he is weak in the knees, this 'Gentle Heart'. And it wasn't as if he was going to allow himself be ordered around by some pegasus; Ricochet had his own plans for an Empire, but making allies and strengthening old bonds would be the best course of action for him right now. I wonder if Smoke still resides there.

Teal eyes flash with anger at the rest of Kahlua's words, and his striped face snaps up in response. Rage quickly filled his starving body and replaced the respect that he had for the girl that was of his species. Was she really just some vain bitch who had thought that she could win him over with her "beauty"? Closing the distance between them, the Incendiary lashed his head out to snap his teeth at her delicate nose, wanting to see the shock and fear register in her blue pale blue eyes as she took a step to evade him. Of course, she could always play the role of a vain and stupid beauty, and have him tear another nostril into the bride of her nose instead.

"Are you revolted, cow? Are you happy that you decided that I was the right stallion for you to toy with?" His words are loud and full of venom when he speaks, and he lunges forwards with his body to try and slam his shoulder into her own. Dark hooves dig into the frozen ground as he tries to throw his weight against her and make her stumble, and he screams, "I warned you, mare. NOW LET'S SEE JUST HOW BEAUTIFUL YOU ARE WITH SCARS OF YOUR OWN!"

A loud whistle escapes the seething brute's maw, and Guns strikes at the mare's dark form from his hiding place in the shadows. He is as fast as he is nimble in this snow, and his speeding body slides beside the mare's right fore, his dark muzzle trying to clamp around it before he runs off to escape any flailing hooves.

{OOC: XD Kind of lame again, but I think that to go any further Kahlua would need to reply. If you think that this will turn into a spar, we can set something up in the battleground, instead?}
"Ricochet"