| Hidden Account |
| Mare :: Unicorn :: 16 hh :: 5 |
|
Itzal :: White Tiger :: Hypnotize
roni |
07-10-2013, 10:13 PM
(This post was last modified: 08-04-2013, 02:01 AM by Yseulte.)
Yseulte came upon the body in the dark.
She stumbled over something hard and slick. The stench of decay and death swarmed her senses like a colony of a thousand wasps, stinging her eyes and clogging her throat. The thick marsh grasped at her legs with tendrils of slime and old decay, ready to pull her down to an early grave beside its latest victim. Panic set in like wildfire, racing through her veins as she fought the urge to flee the way she had come. Instead, she took a slow, shaky breath, gathered her hooves beneath her carefully, and scrambled away, fighting for a solid purchase on the boggy ground.
Once clear of the treacherous pool, she stood there trembling, not out of fear, perhaps, but exhaustion. Her crippled hind leg was on fire, quivering from the strenuous effort of freeing herself from the pit and sending lances of white-hot pain flashing through her tendons. She stared at the corpse numbly, hardly comprehending its figure, half-swallowed by the treacherous black liquid and bloated with death. How had she not scented it before? The foul odor of decay and death clouded her senses, pooling in her nostrils like curdled milk and invading her lungs like a toxic gas. Despite the sweet, sickening stench of decay, the corpse had only just begun to decay. Peering closer, she realized that the half of the body that was emerged in the black pool was preserved in icy clarity by the water's sickly embrace.
Disgusted, she glanced away from the sight and took in her surroundings hopefully, but was quickly disappointed. She could hardly see more than a couple yards ahead of her in any direction and even what little she could see was incredibly discouraging. In a wild array above her like a nest of vipers, thick ropes of tangled vines strangled old, gnarled trees bent and fallen like veteran soldiers, squeezing the life from the decaying trees like a mighty black python.
Something glimmered wet and oily in the various shades of blackness, sluicing at her hooves with a thick sucking sound. Water. A sudden thirst burned within her, scorching the back of her throat raw until she couldn't handle the burning sensation any longer. As if by some invisible force that completely robbed her of her wits, she found herself edging towards the lapping water, then lowering her muzzle...just one sip...and then she mentally smacked herself and backed away quickly from the motionless pool, ill at ease.
Where on earth was she?
This obsolete blackness disoriented her to no ends. In normal circumstances, she was perfectly capable of navigating at night (even in this gods forsaken swamp) with the stars burning white and hot above her as her guide, but in this eternal darkness, she might very well be a gray old lady before she found her way out of this black labyrinth of cold corpses. And where had Itzal wandered off, this time? Abandoned her, most likely. For all the good the tiger cub had done her as of late, she might as well invest in a new companion (one with a solid sense of direction at that). In fact, a nice, fat pigeon sounded quite appealing compared to her arrogant little tiger and his infuriating mannerisms. Oh, when she got a hold of him, she'd rip him a new one—
A twig snapped, the water splashed.
She froze, whipping her head around towards the corpse, ready to gore the first zombie that was surely emerging from those rotten depths. There was a flash of violet, and then something hit her head on, barreling into her chest with all of the force of a miniature locomotive. The impact took her breath away and she stumbled to regain her stance.
"You," she hissed, then wheeled on her hind hooves, fully intent on stomping him into a grave. He eluded her easily, rasping snarls of laughter as he shimmied up a tree to perch precariously on a limb, where he smirked insolently down at her. If she didn't know any better, he'd led her into this maze of darkness on purpose. Oh, how he simply infuriated her! His tail swayed tauntingly above her. Snapping at it with her teeth, she clamped down and yanked him from the tree. He yowled and screeched bloody murder loud enough to wake the whole damn lake of zombies. "Oh, shut it already," she snapped. And he did. But not without giving her a murderous look with those venomous violet eyes.
He slunk away from her to nurse his wounded pride, padding towards the corpse sullenly. By the time Yseulte realized his intentions, it was too late to stop him. He tore into the dead equine ravenously, rendering flesh from bone with iron jaws and steel claws. Blood beaded claws like ruby rings and shone bright against his pale throat. At the scent of fresh horse flesh, her stomach clenched and roiled within her like an angry sea. She couldn't bring herself to stop him, not in his pitiful, skinny state. They were both thinner than they ought to be, and with this eternal winter showing no signs of relenting and the sun seemingly gone forever, she didn't know how long they would last. They must survive. Whatever it took.
She turned away, afraid that if she looked too long she would recognize the horse that the corpse had once been. |
yseulte & itzal, |
ALL THE WAYS I GOT TO KNOW
YOUR PRETTY FACE AND ELECTRIC SOUL.
Ulrik the Engineer Posts: 235
| Deceased atk: 5.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 6.5 |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.1 hh :: 11 HP: 69.5 | Buff: ENDURE |
|
Kirchoff :: Common Hellhound :: Superspeed
Tamme |
Ulrik moved south because he had the freedom to do so, and he wondered if the sun was simply hiding on the other side of the world. He was not present when the gods disappeared. He did not know of their tragedy. Instead, he knew that the beautiful machine of mother nature was broken, fracture, injured. A critical component of her design was flawed, a circuit malfunctioned, and a battery gate left open. Without the light, surely everything would die, including himself, and while others could live or die without his pity, he did appreciate his own life enough to want to save it. At the very least, he wanted to do something about the broken machine, but in order to fix, one had to find and reproduce a problem.
A trail of trees that glowed like lamps guided his way, and it seemed like only those small patches held loss of snow and growth. Shame. He felt his stomach rumble.
The little child of a pup walked beside him as Ulrik was not in a hurry, but when the boy complained of aching paws by whimpering and shoving his mind, the black stallion reached down and collected the creature in his mouth, setting him then on his broad, muscular back. Though a man of science, devoutly so, he had been trained in the art of war, and the musculature from this training had not lessened, not with all the traveling he did so regularly.
The air was warmer here, and he could smell the salt of the ocean. Damn. Swimming in the dark was a moronic venture. One might never find shore and drown... body never found as you sank miles and miles into the great unknown of black depths. How long would he survive, he wondered? Would it be worth it? To see that alien world? Most likely not. What was an alien world to him? Alien, and not useful. He had his own goals, and unfortunately he could not change the world. He could, however, drill horns into everyone's skulls, and thus his dream blossomed from an evil chuckle to a full blown maniacal cackle, metaphorically, of course.
Cloven hooves reached something sloshy, and he moved forward without a cringe or moment of hesitation. Instead, Ulrik pressed onward until the grime reached the middle of his gaskin and grazed the fur that grew thickly between his forelegs. The stallion's height allowed him to evade being entirely covered in the grime, but his cloven hooves definitely stepped on a few bones and slightly more viscous flesh... which was interesting, to say the least. Bronze eyes watered lightly in reaction to the stench, and little Kirchoff was crying.
"Shut it, boy or your body may disappear into the muck too..." he grunted in his own mind to shut up the whimpering dog. Kirchoff did not understand the words, but he understood the implication and immediately kept his displeasure to himself.
A howl from the not-so distant distance caught his attention, and the muscular beast tilted his ears forward, able to hear a feminine voice tell the yowler to shut up. Apparently she was having difficulty with obnoxious behavior as well. Ulrik moved closer, curious that another creature was navigation the slime during such a dark hour, though he was more inclined to consider her another stupid mare. The world was abundantly full of that species, the flighty, bitchy, lying female.
Ulrik saw her when he neared and thanked the gods that she was a unicorn. The last thing he wanted to run into without his magic was an equine or pegasus. They would ruin everything. Just... everything. The lost opportunity to drill their skull with metal would be almost too much for him to bear, and he would certainly have to go on a murderous rampage for that. But fortunes fell upon him, and the stallion looked to the cat that currently tore flesh from bone. Ulrik moved around her to look at the dead creature, his nostrils coming into contact with rotting, putrid flesh. Poor bastard.
"You lost?" he asked, the tenor of his voice almost too deep, so deep it graveled and rattled against his massive ribcage and bellowed from his lungs like the scream of a whisper.
As far as female unicorns were concerned, she was bizarre looking, and that was intriguing. What made her purple? Was it something on the inside? Could he tear it out and find it? No, no, no... she was of his kind. Sacred, and he would not harm his own. The stripes were almost alluring; they reminded him of properly positioned wires, and Ulrik was grateful that he put his metal creation on standby in the Basin. It would have surely died here.
|
BRINGING YOU ANOTHER DISTURBING CREATION
from the mind of one sick animal who can't tell the difference
|
Credits
| Hidden Account |
| Mare :: Unicorn :: 16 hh :: 5 |
|
Itzal :: White Tiger :: Hypnotize
roni |
07-15-2013, 04:56 AM
(This post was last modified: 07-15-2013, 04:58 AM by Yseulte.)
Perhaps the first thing Yseulte noticed about the dark stranger were his fluid movements, as if he was not fashioned from flesh, bone, and sinew, but crafted like a well-oiled machine instead, disguised in obsidian skin with glittering golden gems for eyes. Everything about the stallion was effortless, powerful, and confident. He moved with the languid ease of a dangerous predator and floated like a wraith over the moist earth. With such nimble hooves as those, she was not surprised she'd not heard him creeping in the dark.
The unhindered ease of his graceful strides caused her heart to turn a poisonous shade of green. Her crippled leg ached with a strange longing, yearning to be whole once more. She could have rivaled his grace, once, but that had been before the wolves. Despite her envy, she admired his prowess all the same. In a single, fleeting glance, she took him in: the quiver and flash of steel muscle rippling beneath his obsidian skin, the broad, rounded shoulders and slim hips, the metallic glimmer of tribal markings snaking like bronze serpents around his slender leg, and the cruel spirals of two treacherous looking horns.
The stallion prowled near the corpse, regarding it emotionlessly.
"You lost?"
His voice was the second characteristic she noticed. Expecting the smooth, suave tone of velvet purrs and charming masculinity, she was not prepared for the voice that rasped from those oily black lips, screeching like a rusted hinge in the dark. The guttural, broken sound of his deep voice contrasted starkly to his flawless physique, all smooth skin, languid strides, and curving muscles. When he spoke, she felt like iron claws were grating down her spine and she had to resist the urge to squirm uncomfortably beneath his unrelenting gaze. Instead, she met his eyes boldly, trying desperately not to drown in those golden depths.
"Made the mistake of straying from the path with the glowing trees," she admitted at last, glaring briefly at Itzal. Her hungry companion had stopped devouring the corpse to stare venomously at the young wolf pup on the stallion's broad back. A strand of flesh dangled from the tiger's jaws and his maw was slick and bright with blood. "If your pup is hungry..." Sounding stronger than she felt, she motioned towards the corpse. "By all means, dig in."
There was something about the way that he looked through her, rather than at her that caused Yseulte's stomach to clench in a painful, uneasy knot. His expression was longing, but he did not gaze starry-eyed at her beauty like most men. Instead, he analyzed her like a curious little boy that had discovered an interesting new bug and was trying to decide whether to squish it or add it to his collection. Did he wish to place her in a jar of captivity so that he might admire her until she died from suffocation? Or did he yearn to dissect her like an exotic butterfly, so that he might pin her pretty skin to a nice cork board?
That was the real question, and she wasn't entirely sure she wished to know the answer. |
yseulte & itzal, |
ALL THE WAYS I GOT TO KNOW
YOUR PRETTY FACE AND ELECTRIC SOUL.
Ulrik the Engineer Posts: 235
| Deceased atk: 5.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 6.5 |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.1 hh :: 11 HP: 69.5 | Buff: ENDURE |
|
Kirchoff :: Common Hellhound :: Superspeed
Tamme |
If Yseulte had recognized the engineer as a man of physics and not biology, then perhaps her fears of being dried and pinned to a board of specimens would be somewhat placated. He had no desire to stuff her in a jar of collections and no reason to put her in a case of dead trophies. As a creature who lived most of his life desiring to bring life to metal, the thought of destroying a rather exquisite creation of the ultimate engineer, mother nature, was heresy. Perhaps he would desire to study the living body from the inside out, but there were enough hornless and winged underlings in this world to test out his other ideas...
To make them whole, all of them, whole. Could he assimilate his electronics into their mind? Would he be able to make a radio transmitting horn on their heads? Could he fully invent.... mind control?
None of this was possible without a thorough understanding of the body's electrical system, but mother nature did not use wires, and that was just unsettling to this metal-man. She met his gaze, which was interesting, and she held it, though she seemed unsettled. Ulrik was used to that look. Rarely did anyone meet his eyes with an equal confidence, mainly because it would take another mad man to fully grasp the inner workings of his mind, and even then... some of the darker corners were filled with monsters even he did not dare disrupt.
She spoke, explaining that she wandered too far from the lamp trees, and he nodded, understanding her ability to get lost. He knew the way out. All he would have to do is make a one hundred and eighty degree turn and he would wind up due northeast, back in the direction of the meadow. Ulrik watched the tiger glare at the small, furry creature who huddled on his back, but the stallion shook his head at the mare's offer. "He is too small," the stallion explained in his graveled voice. "He would drown." Still, the creature was obviously hungry, so the stallion moved to the corpse, eyeing the tiger with his mad, bronze gaze before tearing a strip of muscle from the corpse with his own teeth.
Ulrik reached over his back to give the meat to his companion who ate it hungrily. Trying to remember his manners, the stallion looked to the hunter killer with a smile. "Thank you," he rumbled before turning back to the purple mare. "Follow me if you want out," he said, turning the appropriate number of degrees and beginning his slow and sludge-filled trek toward try land. Already the murk started to give way to thinner grime that was filled with grasses instead of disturbingly hunched trees.
|
BRINGING YOU ANOTHER DISTURBING CREATION
from the mind of one sick animal who can't tell the difference
|
Credits
| Hidden Account |
| Mare :: Unicorn :: 16 hh :: 5 |
|
Itzal :: White Tiger :: Hypnotize
roni |
08-03-2013, 01:28 PM
(This post was last modified: 08-04-2013, 02:02 AM by Yseulte.)
The tearing sound the black stranger's teeth made when the flesh was pried from the corpse did not make her stomach turn, as she thought it might. Instead, she remained unflinching, indifferent, too curiously intent upon her new companion to really acknowledge the boiling sea of queasiness that was her stomach. The way the man treats his young pup is quite endearing, really, and it's such a small, pitiful little thing with mournful eyes and a happily lolling tongue. Itzal, on the other hand, was not half so darling. She grimaced distastefully at the site of his bloodied cheeks and gnashing teeth. How charming. After gently feeding the little wolf, the stallion turned to Itzal and thanked him. Yseulte smiled gently. Such a nice gentleman.
Itzal, though he could not yet understand words and dialect, could discern the tones and flavors of feelings in voices. He seemed a little shocked and uncomfortable after the stallion thanked him, and he simply went back to slashing into the corpse, albeit with less enthusiasm than before. The incredibly rare sight of Itzal feeling bashful, of all things, in the presence of another discerned her far more than the odor of a rotting corpse ever could. Had she ever been kind to the little tiger? One surly glance from Itzal was the all the answer she needed. I am a terrible mother. Itzal had never taken to her as kindly as she wished and he had certainly never looked up to her as a parental figure, and nor had she ever tried to force herself into such a role. Surely he would have despised her even more than he already did. Or would have their relationship turned out differently? And so she envied the stallion's gentle relationship with his young companion and wondered idly how Itzal could have possibly come to hate her so much.
She nodded in response to his offer, and followed carefully after him. After a few paces, she glanced over her shoulder and hesitated. "Come, Itzal," she said quietly. The white feline cracked a bone between his jaws in response and promptly ignored her. The impertinence of the little devil child! With a sigh, she paced after the black stallion and his young pup, trusting that Itzal would find her when he needed a suitable throw rug to lounge on.
Pushing her rebellious companion out of her mind, she focused on her mysterious guide. He was quite intriguing, really, with his bold bronze eyes and metallic rasping voice. His strides were fluid as black water in the darkness, causing her to feel about as graceful and refined as a three-legged elephant. They walked in silence for a time, but Yseulte didn't mind. It was a companionable silence, and as she followed along behind, she was quite content to admire his physique in the darkness. Who was he? Where did he come from? What was he doing in the swamp, and why was he helping her? Bombarding him with too many questions might cause him to withdraw deeper into himself, as secretive folk had a tendency to do, and so she decided to ask one simple, harmless question.
"To whom do I owe my thanks?" she inquired curiously, padding from behind to pace by her dark guide's side. It seemed she had rather made a habit of meeting peculiar gentlemen in dark places, and to be quite honest, she was getting rather tired of being a damsel in distress. The formalities were all very exhausting. "My name is Yseulte," she offered at last, wondering if she was going to be having a one-sided conversation, and deciding that she wouldn't entirely mind. After all, she was quite riveting company, if she did say so herself. The earth was already becoming firmer beneath her hooves and no longer grasped with clinging tendrils of slime and muck at her fetlocks. She was almost sorry he knew his directions so well and wished he wasn't such an astute safari guide. It might have been—dare she say it?—fun to blunder through the swamp together, hopelessly lost and blazing trails and discovering the secrets of the darkness. Such a stern, serious face...could she make him smile? She doubted it. "Are you fond of adventures, sir?"
It seemed an innocent enough question. Or was it a dare? |
yseulte & itzal, |
ALL THE WAYS I GOT TO KNOW
YOUR PRETTY FACE AND ELECTRIC SOUL.
|
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