Dark tresses spilled over his thickly muscled shoulders, brushing the moist ground. His large hooves dug into the soft marsh, leaving heavy prints with every stride.
His young hellion bodice glistened under the dark sky, only adding to the depressing mood which covered the area. No sunshine here, just death and horror. The smirk grew at the thought. This was his land now. This was where he ruled. Where others listened to his commands and thought of his idiot father. Blade. What had happened to him? He was trapped at Snowy River Forest, beaten by his younger brother and forced to live 'nicely'.
Four paws padded on the earth, seeming to rattle as it squished benieth his large paws. The god of fire rolled his eyes, staring at the young stag. "Greetings Demturis," the red wolf growled, eyes glinting with darkness. "Who are you?" "Why, young Demturis, I am your uncle," the brute laughed "I gave the power to your weak father. But I see something more in you, something darker...I like your plans for this place." The stag laughed, looking down to the brute. "Well, Uncle, lets start decortating."
Last Edit: Nov 20, 2010 12:27:34 GMT 8 by Kanchana
A whipcord of dark flames streamed out behind the young fae, intrigued by the new land. It was darkness, it was pain. She knew it well, that feeling. Inferno Plains pulled at her hellion heart daily, begging that the daughter of Corus and Jeu De'sprea give in to her hellion nature. However, her mind was quick and cunning, not driven by the same hunger for power as her dead father's had been. Instead she bore herself with the dignity she felt due to her, and asked for nothing more. Asked for nothing less. She was Dominique-Aime, the only daughter of Jeu De'sprea, the last daughter of Corus, and a faithful spy for her mother and Armada.
"Hello," she said, coming upon a wolf and one of Blade's heirs. She had come from Inferno Plains, having stayed long enough merely to inform Armada and her mother of Trainwreck's return, and his budding relationship with Exile's first heir, Candra, now fully grown and a rather nasty example of a hellion fae.
The dark stallion eyed the nice peiece of flesh before him, seeing nothing but her bodice. He didn't care for looks, he didn't care for bloodlines. All he cared was doing everything he could to make the world a better place. "It seems Uncle," the stallion rumbled, circling the mare and nipped her rump harshly"that we have our first, beautiful member." He chuckled at his own joke and came to a stand still before her. "And the first to carry my children," he hissed, teeth sinking into her neck as he mounted her roughly, forcing himself upon her and made sure she was pregant before dismounting. "You are not to leave these lands!" he commanded her and the wolf laughed with amusement. This child was so much better then the last one.
Post by .:Phantom:. on Nov 20, 2010 12:36:16 GMT 8
Burned and scorched, the true hell horse fae trotted easily into the lands of pure darkness. Cracked pelt and flames flew from her at all angles. Bloodlines of both Blade and her idiotic mother were in her, especially seeing that one was normal. Being in hell for two years had changed that though, and now she was considered to be even more of a hellion than any she had yet to meet. Syria hated life at the mountains, and she was not bound to him like the colt had been. No, she was purely evil - perhaps even insane, but she wouldn't admit it.
"Brother," she hissed, flicking the flamed whipcord as it sailed behind her. Just a young one she was and definitely not old enough to breed, not yet at least. Here, she was royalty, or at least, she was related to the royalty in more ways than she could explain. Syria knew she could even be better than them, though, for she could kill a hellion simply by touching him with her sword-like horn. That was far back in her blood too - unicorns. Although she wasn't a pure, hell changed everything. Now, she was all powerful and ready to be in command.
"Syria is my calling," she said in her monotone, not letting any emotion but hate cross into her mind. What a pathetic fae the young daughter of Corus was. The fae laughed as she was humiliated in front of the whole crowd. Those that weren't ready for failure or hurt shouldn't come. Giving life to a more purebred hellion wouldn't hurt her at all. Actually, it would help, but her brother would have to help her find someone.
The smirking stag turned, eyeing the hellion fae with clouded orbs. "Sister," he greeted his unknown sibling, able to smell the scent upon her fire built bodice. "It seems, you have wandered onto my lands," he said with bored tones "I am Demturis."
He cared little for family, just some stupid fae he couldn't breed with the hope of producing dark little ones. "You are...not a slave," he mused allowed, knowing he could not doubt his own lines so much "but not royalty...something less."
Post by .:Phantom:. on Nov 20, 2010 13:08:42 GMT 8
Syria smirked to herself darkly as she let the flames caress the seeping cracks in her pelt. The flame ridden whipcord, laced with murderous flames, had given her everything she desired. With just a quick movement, the entire place could be characterized as a burning brush - just a wasteland. Then again, all lands were considered that, to her unless they were settled with worthy members. Syria glanced at him with her pools of molten lava. "Coming here was no mistake," she let her voice trail off, as an endless stream of fire whipped off her hide and onto the ground. Syria wanted to be a great member of the darkness, one that was recognized for her amazing powers.
"I would think twice about that if I were you," she mused, touching the blood red horn to a newborn filly. Curling up, the filly stopped breathing and died right before them. "See," she said with a smirk, wanting already to cause havoc that was in her blood. Even her mother had summoned the devil, hades, whatever you want to call him, to take her to hell for training. Seems like he listened, for she was trained marvelously to kill and to do nothing else. Each step she took left an imprint of fire in the ground. Couldn't the stupid king see that her power was needed? Syria knew that this time, he would have to respect a fae, only one - his sister.
He blinked, bored by her fancy fire show. "Sister," he said quietly, slightly amused "be glad to have a title more then broodmare, you may earn a title but at the moment you are in either title." He chuckled, eyes rolling. He was warming to her, her easy tone for death and firey temper made her that much more intresting. "Prove your worth and you might become a queen," he tempted her "in your own right, able to do as you wish." "Until my calling, wander and do as you please...I shall find someone worthy of our lines," he dismissed her and looked back to the first mare. "Mare, what is your name?" he demanded, neck snaking out and teeth sinking into her neck, shaking her and waited for a reply. He didn't care, not realy, he just felt like having some fun.
Holding the blood soaked horn up as well as her crown up proudly, she scoffed at them both. They shouldn't underestimate anyone that lived her, especially not her. Whipping her whipcord around, poison dropped off of it, splashing on to the ground. Any creature she wanted to kill, she would simply have to hit them with it. Being evil and having such power wasn't a very good characteristic to have, according to those pea brained optimistic kings. To her, it was the best thing anyone could have. Perhaps, the king feared her and this power, and that was why he would not grant her even more power. Fearing a mare: Something stags never wanted to admit. Half of them would be screaming in her presence though.
"Good," she murmured coldly, turning her attention back to the pathetic hellion fae standing to the left. Too bad her brother didn't have any powers that made him stand out. Things could be interesting if she had to help him defend his title, but perhaps she wouldn't. The name 'Syria' as the marvelous queen of all evil sounded much better than Demeturis in her opinion. Whatever she thought, scanning the land to see if there were any worthy stags around. None caught her eye. Going to Alaknanda would be her best choice, but she could meet some terrible weaklings then and be forced to kill them.
"That," she hissed, turning her attention to the blood pouring off the young fae's neck. "Is Dominique Aime," she replied, noticing that she was of the purest blood. A simple spy for her mother, she had been, gathering information on the son of Armada for her own use. She hadn't been interested in him at all, like the princess, Candra. "Daughter of Corus and some brood mare," Syria said with a shrug sauntering off to cause more trouble.
The black fae took it easily, her dark eyes burning fiercely. She looked at the other fae, a slight smile on her lips. "My mother is Jeu De'sprea, my leader, Armada. I am, indeed, Dominique-Aime." blood dripped down the black fae's neck, dark and deep, yet the young femme didn't seem to notice, her flames flickering up around the fresh blood, stopping it from dripping to the ground. Corus had not touched her, had hardly met her. She didn't care much for pain, but her mother had taught her ways of abandoning her body to such things. It was a useful enough skill when spying. More useful though, was knowing a way of escape. Thankfully, this pathetic stag had given her it.
"You think you can order me, tell me whether or not I can leave? I come, I go, as I please. I am no one's slave." she murmured, her blood like fire as she lashed out, pulling herself out of his grip, turning to look at the stag with dark eyes, flames crackling around her bloody nape, her silky, fiery tresses flying around with the heat. "Even Blade, that idiot, is a bit more... Convincing... Than that little statement. And a bit more original as well. How many times do you think I've heard that particular line from wandering hellions? Hmmm? I can tell you, there's been more than one. Tell it to someone who's not used to idiots like you. My father was one, Exile and Blade are others. My half brother, Trainwreck, was more impressive than you. Although, I suppose that could have been because of his grandsire...."
Post by .:Phantom:. on Nov 22, 2010 10:09:34 GMT 8
Against the dead brush and land of complete darkness, the herd mare of that weakling trotted in. Ivory against the stormy hue of her matted pelt didn't shine at all now as she came in. Short, was she, and her muscle tone had depleted from the loss of the only stag she had loved - her obsession, Blade. The mother of Syria came looking for a fight from her daughter but knew that she would taint some more young ones through the torture before she passed in the final fight between the two. Fabula would have to start her training again, she noticed to take down her daughter and teach her a lesson without killing her.
Fabula was a savage, truly insane, unlike her daughter, who clung to a small grasp of sanity. It had been three long years since she bore a foal, and it was time again. Normal was she, nothing but slave material, yet the useless hellion had granted her the position of herd mare. "I have arrived, mother of Syria," she announced, smiling a little at the large winged stag before her. Blade had proved to be weak, but this young stag could be different. She could stalk him to the end of the world - be his biggest fan. "And, you. Who might you be, handsome one?" she asked with a grin.
Syria trotted back into the scene, anger rising in her throat as she faced her mother. "What do you want, bitch?" she hissed, tossing her fiery locks as the horn gleamed, wanting to kill all who came in contact with it. "You want to bare another foal, just so you can torture it into submission?" she asked with hatred, taking a step forward. Syria hoped she got forced, and after the foal was born, she would take care of the normal fae herself.
Demturis laughed with delight. It seemed family polictics had arrived. "Greetings," he said, a glint to his eyes as he studied the normal fae. "I am Demturis, your new hell," he said, hooves thundering as he moved closer and eyed his sister slightly, coming to a pause. He might just have to keep the idiot fae, just to piss her off.
His attention was caputred by the mare he had just embarressed greatly, and knew that she was already baring his child. "Yes idiot?" he questioned, as if pretending not to here her little rant. "I think it best you stay dear," Remus growled, aprroaching her from the other side. "Its not safe for you to leave, you know, carrying a foal and all."
The young fae snorted, trying very hard not to laugh at the wolf's comment. "I've been in more danger than wandering with foal. Actually, having a foal would probably put me in less danger, seeing as most of the more annoying stags are only interested in whether or not I have one from them anyways."
Despite her words though, she was watching the wolf and the forcer carefully, trying to figure out the best way of getting out of the mess she'd managed to get into. On the one hand, hooves and flames would likely be able to stop her, at least for a time. On the other, the wolf had speed, flames as well, and some nasty looking canines.
ooc ;; lol, kanchana, you used the same picture for demturis that i used for inception...
She approached the group slowly, her pure ebony pelt glistening in the light, reflecting in rather brilliant ways, and her black wings tucked gently at her sides. Black eyes peered curiously around the lands. She had heard of this land already, and she knew that mares were only welcome as slaves. The thought of her being a slave made her laugh. If any of them so much as tried to force her, they would be in for a rude awakening. Inception was her name, meaning first, for she had been the first of her kind in her family, in her home land entirely.
Her eyes instantly rested on the stallion of black with black wings, much like her own except less femininely elegant. She snorted with sarcastic laughter at the other mares standing around. None of them could possibly compare to her uncompromising beauty and proportion. She was the picture of perfect hellion mare, much like the one they called Armada, though she was not as reasonable and civil-minded as her. The craving for power instantly entered her throat, almost like a burning hunger, as she grew nearer to them.
Once she was close enough, she stopped, not speaking for a moment, simply observing the others and seeing who was in control. It was immediately established that the black stag was the one who ran this show, and Inception instantly knew that he was who she would not introduce her self. She turned her head to the mares and the wolf, and said, "I am Inception," it was simple, and rather to-the-point, letting them know who she was and how she would react to demands by the edgy tone in her voice. Her black eyes flashed, seeming to dare one of the stallions to try and force her to do anything. They would regret the day they were born if they so much as took a wrong step in her direction.
OOC: lol! Sorry...do you mind? Or did u want me to change it? Dark harks flickered, orbs lowered and stared at the young fae, as if daring her to try and run. She wouldn't have a chance. A hellion with wings was faster then a horse on earth. A fire wolf, a god at that, was unbeatable in itself. "Try and it wont end well," Remus growled, seeming to see the planning look behind the fae's orbs.
Dark orbs flickered up, eyeing the approaching fae. They looked so alike one could mistake them as relations. But Demturis knew that this was not that case with this beauty. "I am Demturis," said the young king, eyeing her with something between awe and hatred. "Be welcome to these....lands," he chuckled, sweeping his head in a seperate direction and looked over the hills. "It seems," he murmered to his uncle "we have called quiet a crowd."