| Hidden Account atk: 5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.5 |
| Mare :: Equine :: 16.2hh :: 9 HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE |
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Mongrel :: Common Kitsune :: Dark Illusions
wanda |
Gossamer ribbons of scarlet liquid coaxed forth from the depths of the ruby pond flowered upon the shivering disc of foaming crimson water, sparkling with diamond-like brilliance. Dim lights, faded theater lanterns, spilled out suffuse gold onto the clearing of charcoal grass and idly buzzing bugs flitting across, specks of pollen on the clean black backdrop. Moonlight tempted with a seductress's sly promises from the velvet sky washed the world in grays, cutting hard lines with shadow and the glistening contrast of alabaster; under the eternal night, the world looked as if to be made from shattered porcelain but for the elixir of so-called wine, the scarlet blazing against coal and silver.
She detached herself from the shadows, pushing away the clinging fingers of bold ebony, a smudge of ink on a charcoal painting, the skull painted on her face starker than the cardinal-red pool.
Nostrils quivered, ragged lungs full of frigid air. Mouth opened, eyelids drifted closed, hiding the predator's starved eyes. Acid dripped from pitch lips, burning ragged holes into the earth. Each step was light, free with ecstasy and joy from the whims of the pained body aching and bruised. The leaves whispered, and the branches rattled a warning. Beware, the trees sighed. Today the butcher walks, and blood will paint the blackened earth with it's precious elixir of life; the executioner, the slaughterer, the spider who continues weaving her sticky little web, slowly expanding.
The hellion lowers her head to the waters of blood and flame, her eye of yellow and orange illuminated with a devilish sparkle.
Tonight she would spill blood as a prayer.
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| User-based Random Event |
| Stallion :: Equine :: :: |
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08-27-2013, 07:28 PM
(This post was last modified: 08-27-2013, 07:29 PM by NPC.)
She was afraid.
Her mother had birthed her in the darkness, and she had grown in it, welcomed it, and even let the shadows settle in her breast. A little bit of darkness ate at her soul, flowering, growing, eating away at her innocence. Still, she told herself she was okay, even though she began to smell of rot, of decay.
She was a cherub, a skinny little darling, on knobby knees and gangly legs, a precious child, who might have grown up to be who-knows-what. Her eyes were big and brown, with long, curling lashes of snow-white. A coat of precious cream, with a streak of black about her sparkling eyes, encased her frail bone and foal-soft muscle. The filly was younger than a blossoming spring bud, rosy-cheeked and sweet-eyed, with an insatiable curiosity that would lead her to something far worse than a mother's scolding. With a voracious appetite of romanticized dreams of adventure, she left her mama's flank and wandered into the big bad woods.
We can call her Little Red Riding Hood, but there's no axman come to save her, and her grandma is far away.
The wolf appeared when she fell in the scarlet pool, and she pulled her out, sat her down and cleaned her up. Her skin still tingled from the dead-faced mare's yellowed teeth scraping away dust and dirt. "We've got to get you pretty now," she had sighed, eyeing the tangle of pearl curls. "I want to go home." Red had cried out, but the wolf had only shaken her skull-face sadly. "No, child. This is your home now. Wait now, and I'll be back soon." Night had cycled on, and the foal awaited her savior and captor.
But the wolf-mare had returned sooner than she wanted.
Red stepped back, terror in her heart. "Let me go!"
Bloody murder, Red should've screamed.
But she didn't.
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| Hidden Account atk: 5 | def: 8.5 | dam: 5.5 |
| Mare :: Equine :: 16.2hh :: 9 HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE |
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Mongrel :: Common Kitsune :: Dark Illusions
wanda |
08-27-2013, 07:45 PM
(This post was last modified: 08-27-2013, 07:49 PM by Confutatis.)
Children were precious in this world of shadow where naught but the darkest of villainous devils survived.
Did they have enough value to be a worthy sacrifice?
Would the gods of Helovia finally have their eyes opened to the monster that lurked? "Hush child," she soothed, stepping up to the trembling filly. Her amber eye was stern and sharp, a pool of melting gold. Still the foal shook, trembled, at the hellion's breath between her ears. The tiniest of reddish bumps was upon her forehead, where a horn might spring from in the next month. If she had lived that long. For many moments she simply breathed, until the quivering slowed and the child was lulled to sleep from the "maternal" mare's warmth against her creamy skin. How would it look if Confutatis stole the skin off her body, wore it as a cape about her neck? When time came to kill again, she would hunt down the whitest of all horses- a unicorn with a horn of pearl- and slough the skin from it's body, so it may wake screaming and see it's own blood staining the earth.
Before it dies.
She begins, stroke by stroke, skinning the child with her mouth of acid, tongue pulling the skin from muscle and sinew.
It's not long before the filly begins screaming, but Confutatis begins singing, louder and louder, drowning out the sounds of pain, and the ravens gather on the trees, silent sentries to a murder, murder.
"Death, death
Is something I forgive,
Dust and ash,
Soot and corpses,
Blood and bones,
Carrion crows,
Gathering close,
Beaks coming to break the silence,
Ice cracks,
Birds sing,
Feathers drift,
and we all scream.
Wolf, wolf, very bad wolf,
He'll come to eat you when you sleep."
Blood is falling on the ground, dirt and dust over all. Salt and sweats burns in the air, hot on her lips, and Confutatis watches the bloody work come to an end.
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| User-based Random Event |
| Stallion :: Equine :: :: |
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Summoned by the sacrifice, drawn to the scent of blood, came a shadow, expanding in size, whispering softly, chuckling, and then materializing- a monstrous beast, a horse with a skull on his face, like that of Confutatis' sire but covered in bones, bones that hang from his mane and tail and rattle as he moves forward, silently, with hooded eyes cold with interest. His voice is an ugly rasp, and blood drips sullenly from a gaping wound at his throat which exposes his windpipe. "Child," he groans, and he plunges his head into the foal, devouring it, drinking every last drop of hot blood, and then he stands, quivering with quiet joy.
"Thank you for the feast, Queen of Skulls," He sighs, extending his bloodied muzzle to her. From his bones falls an egg, coal black and small, and with a single huge hoof he rolls it towards her. "Guard the little monster well, and it will repay you many times," he tells her, with an echo of a smile on his cruel face, and then he withdraws, leaving only the bones of the foal stripped bares and the air stinking of decay.
[Using Wanderer's plain non-specific companion prize]
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