"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
05-26-2015, 01:11 PM (This post was last modified: 06-14-2015, 07:45 AM by Killgore.)
The cold air clung to the chocolate coffee-colored mare, making her skin sting. She couldn't feel her ears, and her maw had long since gone numb, but it was a good feeling. The pain had a silky way of caressing her, lovingly warming her body, her mouth creased in enjoyment. Nothing could spoil the excitement of being taken back to childhood, that first step into a new territory, all the unfamiliar beings. She walks with pride, her chest puffed out, performing a dance of disdain as she meticulously picks up and places each feathered pole. Each step sounded with a grating scratch against the winter hardened earth, announcing her arrival in an almost ceremonious way.
The maid paced forward between chittering clusters of mares,snorting as their gaze fell upon her bodice. A hush quickly ensued, followed by the returning roar of words exchanged in attempted whispers. Just how she liked it, her face took on a smug expression as if she couldn't be more pleased with herself. She hadn't liked them, she never had...the mares that clung to the ankles of a stag. Masses of lap dogs, healing for their masters, awaiting their share of his scraps. Most of those males hardly deserving of their titles, mere lumps of metal passed down from father to son. "Birthright" they called it, "tradition" they said, they were full of it if they asked her. Any brute that could not take his lands by force was menial, a good leader needed a firm grip,a sharp mind and certainly a means to take what he desired.
....but you dont know which chamber
((sooo long time no RP= crap at the villain character my apologies for my suck, and mega fail using wrong name before))
05-27-2015, 01:57 AM (This post was last modified: 05-27-2015, 07:10 PM by Khaos.)
He’s not entirely sure why he’s stuck around so long today. Few mares have bothered to brave the cold and venture into the field, and those that have, have already been approached by other stallions. Normally this wouldn’t be a problem - he doesn’t mind a little friendly competition - but the cold has always put him in a bit of a bad humour. He supposes it has to do with the nature of his body - pure iron does not do well in cold temperatures. Thankfully the temperatures in the field will never be cold enough to do actual damage to his body.
He’s considering heading back into the herd lands (he still hasn’t settled on one), when a flicker of movement catches his eye. A mare, all by herself.
His keen eyes follow her as she steps into the field, carrying herself in a way that is much unlike the other mares currently in the field. It’s more … proud. More dominant. And he likes it.
He doesn’t head to her immediately however, instead taking a dawdling, circular route in her direction. It gives him all the more time to observe her. And the more he sees, the more he likes.
Finally, he makes his move. He breaks into an open, easy trot, and makes a beeline for her. He doesn’t bother to hide. There’s no point after all - a horse made of pure iron stands out on a snowy field. In fact he hopes he cuts a rather impressive image - 17 hands of metal gleaming in the winter sun isn’t something you’re going to see every day after all.
He stops directly in front of her, and flashes her a wicked grin. “Why hello there. I’m Khaos. To whom do I owe the pleasure?”
i'm on the wrong side of heaven, and the righteous side of hell
He is made of iron too, but not in the literal sense. He is made up of the same things all other horses were made of; flesh and blood, bone and sinew, muscle and tendons. But something inside of him was forged of iron. His heart perhaps, and most certainly his will. Of course his personality shared the same properties of iron. Cold and unyielding, strong in the face of any and all adversaries. So though he may not have been forged from true iron, he was the same in many ways.
This weather has done nothing to brighten his spirits. His bones were old, and despite the infinity symbol on his chest that kept him alive, he was still subject to the aches of ancient bones. The black warrior ground his teeth together as a particularly bitter gust of wind lifted his tangled mane from his neck. Its no better in the Chamber.. he thought to himself as he stepped into the barren Field. Groups of horses stood here and there huddled against the cold, but overall it was quiet here. A pair of horses catches his eye, and he raises his head to better see them. A mare and a stallion, though as of now he had no way of knowing which on was looking for a home. Better to go find out than to waste the entire day, he decided. So with a snort of disdain aimed at the weather he headed their way, thick muscles rippling beneath his scarred black coat. The infinity symbol on his chest glowed a bright blue in stark contrast to the dull black. It was the proof of his dedication, the ties that bound as it were. Finally he had closed the distance, and he came to the pair unafraid and slightly nonchalant. “Miserable weather, no?” he said, perhaps a flat attempt at conversation. No one had ever accused him of having great recruiting skills. “I’m Warship, General of the Chamber.” he offered before inclining his head to the other stallion. “Khaos.” he said simply, but not rudely. Now they both waited on the mare, both probably as anxious as the other.
05-27-2015, 08:59 PM (This post was last modified: 06-14-2015, 07:46 AM by Killgore.)
They had come, sooner rather than later....
Her ears pricked forward as two gingerbread oculars soaked in the image before her. Peripheral noting his eyes on her, and oh how she had liked that. Coyly she flicked her tail, a quake curving its way serpentine from her neck, across her withers, to her croup. One impressive metal behemoth closed the distance between them, a fascinatingly beautiful creature. Why, he simply oozed with a adamantine glow against the snow covered field. She squinted, momentarily unsighted by the harsh beams the sun rebounded of the stags hide. She wondered if his bodice was as firm as the metal? or perhaps it was pliable and would give 'neath her touch? maybe she would find out for herself. A mischievous smirk briefly wound its way across her hickory hued maw, clearly an inside joke to the outside looking in.
Her lips parted to speak, but wait......
To further appeal for her vainglorious self-view a second delight found his way to her. A blue toned symbol worked its way over his chest and glowed eerily against its stark backdrop. This peeked her curiosity as well, such fine specimen to come greet her, each displaying some seemingly powerful attribute. Her insides burned as the appeal flooded her brain, sending signals of want ,need...a craving, an insatiable want for all things. He had broken into the conversation as any man might begin, the weather..but what followed would be worth hearing. A general he supplied, how delectable she thought. Curving her neck to provide them the best view of her facade she without the normal timid mare hesitation crooned,
"Positively wretched, I'm Killgore" the flint in her eye sparked with some practiced sencerity."and which one of you thinks he'll be taking me home this eve?"
05-29-2015, 12:05 AM (This post was last modified: 05-29-2015, 12:06 AM by Khaos.)
Oh he likes her.
He can see her giving him a once over as he approaches, and the tiny smirk that follows tells him that she likes what she sees. Good mare - she knows how to appreciate quality when she sees it.
And really, so does he. She’s a pretty thing, powerfully built, and that attitude …
She would make a welcome addition to his herd. She certainly would make life interesting at the very least.
After he introduces himself however, the sound of hooves crunching through the snow catches his attention. He turns, angry, to see a battle-worn black stallion approaching. He’s unremarkable, except for a glowing blue symbol on his chest. Khaos would have likely found it interesting, if he had not been so irritated at the old man for interrupting. He snorts, but keeps his cool. There’s no point in starting a fight. Not yet anyhow.
The stallion comments on the weather, and Khaos wants to roll his eyes, though he keeps himself and check and simply offers a flat, “indeed.” The stallion reveals himself as the General of the Chamber, and Khaos is instantly glad that he has kept himself in check. While he is confident in his abilities, and believes he could take on the old man, he doesn’t feel that it is particularly wise to make an enemy of the Chamber at this point in his life. He inclines his head back at the stallion then turns back to the mare, who’s rather more important in his books.
She preens, showing off to the both of them. He’s getting the distinct feeling that she wouldn’t mind them fighting over her at all. “Ah well, I hope that’ll be me personally.” He grins at her.
She flicked her auds as the one called Khaos spoke, and his verses brought a small coy smile to her lips. Of course you would hope so darling, she thought to herself, her banner flicking as she became more relaxed with the encounter. The big black one had thus far been so stoic after his comments on the nasty weather.
How he wounded her.
She had so hoped to see a bit of blood today, and of course was sure her little japes were understood. She loved the pandemonium she could cause, she worshiped it. It was her lifes blood in a sense, the practice of puppeteering others to bring out their worst. MMMMmmm it was delightful. She did wonder though, did the iron one even bleed like she did? Was it red? Did it plague the palate with a metal taste? She was curious, and hoped she could one day know for herself.
Her dark oculars scanned them both, taking them in and studying their features. The way they held themselves, and spoke. She noted them physically, of course, but she wanted to see what went on upstairs too. Watching them intently to decipher, what could possibly be going on in their think boxes. For if they wouldn't claim her for themselves, she would certainly lay claim to one of them.
She smiles at his response, but doesn’t deign to answer. Irritation flickers in the back of his mind but he forces it down. This little darling is just waiting to be plucked, and he’s dying to steal her away.
The black tattooed beast is still silent for the moment, and Khaos decides to make his move. This ‘Warship’ is a kingdom recruiter after all, and is more interesting in her for her potential place in his ranks, than for the fun she can provide. And well, Khaos is interested in the fun.
He steps forward and leans down, brushing his iron muzzle against her bay coat. Soft. Then he circles her, brushing gently along her dark sides. He can feel the traces of iron moving through her veins, and aches to toy with them, but he resists. No, that behaviour will be saved for his pet back home. This one is special. He won’t tarnish her in that way … unless she asks for it.
“Well doll, what do you say? Care to join me in my territory, Silver Cove?” He glances back at Warship, waiting for whatever the black stallion will add. For surely he will - he would be crazy to let this one go without a fight.
They had left a lady waiting, oh yes, they had. Nares flared at the inconvenience, she continued to give them both a hard look. Inside her mind was screaming, "What the hell are you waiting for?" She had practically set herself up on a silver platter for taking, why she had even encouraged even encouraged their hostility. Not a single bite, no not today. Tut, tut.
Just in time one decided to be bold, to approach upon her bubble and lay his claim. Ah, a good boy that was more like it. After all, she was a prize. She straightened as he neared, holding herself up to her full height though she was still stunted in comparison.
She is a statue.
Her insides burn as he makes his advance, his metal maw brushing her skin. No, caressing her skin, the simplest of touches. His pelt is cool,smooth as he brushes along side her own. She doesn't move, not a flinch until he is finished. His song reaches her auds, another question for her. Would she come? Well she wasn't getting any younger standing out here. "Of course," she says simply with a dip of her crown. Little words for conversation, but they might have more to discuss on the way, or once settled in her new home. Away from prying ears and eyes. She makes no mistake when she takes her place, dial turning towards him. They had best be off, she seems to say with a flick of her tail.
He’s rather astounded at this point that the other stallion hasn’t said a word. Why would he approach such a lovely thing, only to give it up without any sort of fight whatsoever? It’s enough to make him want to shake his head, but he resists the urge. If the stallion isn’t even going to try to compete for the mare’s attention, he’s not worth even the smallest expenditure of energy. Killgore is far more interesting by far anyhow.
When she agrees to join him, a wicked grin splits his iron face. He spares one last glance for the silent black stallion, before turning the grin on the bay mare. “Let’s be off!” Then without further ceremony, he heads off in the direction of the Cove.
_______________________________
The trip to the Cove is, as always, a long one, but it’s made all the more pleasant by having the little dark beauty by his side. She will be a different sort of mare in his herd than the one he has already. Ghoest is a plaything, a little toy for him to have fun with and throw around. But Killgore is something different. She is not a toy, she is a challenge - a delightful little fiery creature that will add an interesting dynamic to his small herd. If she has the interest, he could easily see her making her way up to being his alpha mare. But only time will tell.
It takes some time, but eventually they do reach Silver Cove. It’s midday when they arrive, so Killgore will not yet be able to take in the little cove’s full beauty, but he hopes it will be enough to satisfy her. He walks until he reaches the little cliff that over looks the bay, then turns to look back at the bay mare. From this position, the little territory will be spread out before her - rolling grassy hills, sun sparkling off the water below … still a pretty sight in his books. “Well my dear, what do you think?”
The moment is slightly reminiscent of when he had brought Ghoest here, but with Killgore, there is no pretext. Killgore has already recognized the beast within, and welcomed it. He can’t wait to see what their future will bring.
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