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    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "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


    B A D W O L F || Any
    #1
    a ghost in the darkness.
    The wraith was growing restless.

    Each day passes and the shadows call longingly to him, encouraging him to return to their cool embrace. The darkness beckons with a curved finger, speculating. Wondering. Waiting. Still, he bides his time. He knows that glory will come to those that are patient, the reward will be ever sweeter for it. He collects bright minds that hold the same razor edge as he. It’s a vast collection. Monsters that can not never be tamed, bored sorceresses that are tired of the stale minutes of life, the youth who have a taste of power and want to see it grow. They are all so different but they are all bonded by a single black thread. The same one connected to the darkness that calls them forward, reminding them it’s still there. Waiting.

    Peace can only last for so long. There is no good without evil, no light without dark. They all know this. It’s the way the world has always worked, always had and would always be long after his bones had crumbled into dust. Peace was but a gray area in a world of black and white. It never lasts. Some had a harder time accepting this but those in his line of work, so to speak, they knew better. The sooner you acknowledge it, the easier it would be.

    This new world was not so different from the last. The kingdoms had different names and landscapes but it didn’t change what they were. It didn’t make them invincible. Didn’t make them special or protected. So many rulers were quiet, “so stale” said the whispers in the forest. So many weak, ripe for the picking. Their subjects smiled on the outside but on the inside they were just as restless as the ghost. They waited with bated breath for the next storm to come. They could deny it but boredom does funny things to people. He smiles to himself, soon.

    Cloaked by the cool shade of the forest canopy, he drifts lightly between trees. The forest had become familiar to him, not so unlike the Chamber in a way. The ghost doesn’t leave it often unless he needs to pick up another trinket here or there. Needs to place a whisper in someone’s ear. Needs to scope out the terrain, eyes burning brightly with the heat of his great plans.

    An insanely patient man, he has waited so long. How many years had he spent in exile, a disgraced Chamber prince? Eventually Kennedy had died and he had returned, the wait had been worth the reward. Again and again, he bit his tongue. Waited and watched. But even he grew impatient now and again. Now his patience was waning. The woods were spitting out so many faces of old, the dark magic emulating from them weaving through the trunks, mingling. The woods are almost suffocated by the presence of such animosity. Their patience was waning too. Soon, he thinks. Soon.
    Gryffen
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    #2

    I have lingered for nearly a year.  Pacing the whitewashed beaches - of a land I don't remember it's  name - on which I was left upon.  She was gone. She was not coming back.  I must accept this and move on with my life.  

    As I walk off the sandy dune I leave my hoofprints in my wake.  Soon they would disappear just as mother had.  Washed out with the sea green waves.  Knowing very little of my past.  A few names were mentioned in conversation with the granite pied mare.  Waylan.  Should I remember that name?  Perhaps it would be best to seat it in the back of my mind for a rainy day...

    A day such as this

    The coastal region held a weather system of it's own.  Warm. Wet. So as I broke across the land barriers I half expected the droplets to end.  Foolish was I.  The skies were overcast, resembling the color of  my mother.  Of what I can remember of her.  I had never met my father.  He probably didn't know of my existence.  Never would.  I was alone and my acceptance of this was strengthening.  Slight resentment building walls of hatred in my mind.  My scarlett eyes narrowed on my chosen path.  Unknown of its destination.

    It had been hours of trudging through the early spring rains.  My onyx coat soaked to my core.  A shake given time to time, lightening the load slightly.  Only for it to gather again.  Mud caked my alabaster stockings. My face a permanent scowl of displeasure.  My only small ray of hope was brought by the sight of trees on the horizon.  I quickened my pace to a canter.  Their newly budded leaves may provide some shelter...

    At the treeline I slide through the thicket of brush.  Sharp twigs claw and scrape at me as I break through.  My short onyx tail whips in irritation as I shake free the water upon my back.  My location is of unimportance to me.  Another foolish mistake.  I am unaware of what, who calls these forests home.  

    Who lingers in their depths.  Waiting... 

    Dynast
    Friends with the Monsters
    Reply
    #3
    a ghost in the darkness.
    Many names had been lost to him over time. He had long ago forgotten the names of some of his children, most had never been brought to his attention. The concept of a great grand child was not even a thought in his mind. However when he sees the burning red eyes of the filly slipping through the trees, it gives him pause. Now granted there were plenty these days that held those trademark eyes and it did not instantly mean a relation. Yet something about her gives him pause.

    She seeks comfort from the storm. Here only a few droplets of rain find their way through the thick canopy above. There is a hardness in her face, strange for someone so young. Her coat is caked with mud, a hot mess that’s conveniently found it’s way to him. He knows what to do with such a gift.

    From the shadows of thick trees he finally emerges, flickering coals instantly grabbing the crimson gaze of the foal. He is unaware of her special power, one that he’s never encountered and would take great creativity to exploit in the woods, but the familiar hue of her eyes is enough. Yellowed teeth are exposed as white lips pull back, neck snaking out to plant a sharp nip on her shoulder as he throws himself in her path. ”Follow me.” He snarls softly, meaning to claim her as his own. Another protege, another new follower for the dark world to come.  
    Gryffen


    @[Dynast]
    Reply
    #4

    The darkness within the confines of the forests embraces me.  Instantly I feel at home.  Though I am clueless to why.  I have never had a home so how would I know how one feels.  A quick shake of my patterned coat relieves me slightly.  This place was much different than the beaches I had been left upon.  The dampness here had a chill not a warmth that sent a shiver radiating from the depths of your chest and down your spine.  Scarlett eyes dance from shadow to shadow.  Little do I know what I am about to see...

    Like the fog that weaves it's way through the tangle of thicket and trunk he comes.  My eyes giving me away as he locates another victim.  Quietly he nears and I watch his approach.  Gauging his slightest of movements if any should turn hostile.  A curiousity of me flicks across his pale face as he decides my purpose. My fate.  Ebony ears flick back then forwards.  He reaches for me but  I do not flinch as his teeth grip my flesh.  Shying would show weakness and I am far from such.  

    My crown is held high as he claims me.  Being young did not mean I am clueless.  When he commands me I do not move.  Scarlett eyes find his own ember gaze.  A grin creases my lips as I question him, "Who exactly am I following?"  I would need a little convincing to just follow...
    anyone

    Dynast
    Friends with the Monsters


    @[Gryffen]
    Reply
    #5
    look what you made me do.
    She does not flinch from him even as his teeth pinch her skin. Defiant, calm. Her glittering red eyes matching his own as she grins up at him and refuses to move. Pertinent. Perhaps he will break her, perhaps she has better uses. ”Does it matter?” Sharp words laced with threat despite the amusement that lingers on pale lips. A snap from his tangled stained tail against snowy haunches, considering her options.

    ”You are following the King of a kingdom I destroyed. Keep testing my patience and you’ll find out how.” A snap of stained teeth, prodding and teasing her as he prowls around her. They all blamed him anyways so might as well  use it to his advantage. They both know she’s grossly outmatched. If he has too, he will glamour her with that she desires most. A manipulative type of magic that worked wonders in expelling useful information. A toss of his head, gesturing with his muzzle that he was no longer playing games. Time to go.

    Gryffen


    Figured I would catch it up to current timeline lol
    Reply
    #6

    He dances around me and my question. Does it matter... A smirk curls my ebony lips as only my eyes follow his movements.  Words snapping like jaws of a rabid canine with a tinge of amusement.  His answer - not answer - catches my interest.  I pry for more info as I step in the direction he motions to, "And why would a King destroy his kingdom?"  This confuses me but makes me wish to learn more.  

    My steps are quiet as I wait to hear what he has to say.  Scarlett eyes look forward but can see his pale form lingering near.  The darkness surrounding them still.  I move slowly through the tangle of branch and brush.  Unbeknownst to me our destination.  Some would say it was foolish to follow the lead of a menacing stranger lingering in the shadows.  To me, it'd be foolish not to...

    Dynast
    Friends with the Monsters


    @[Gryffen]
    Reply
    #7

    Autumn had changed the scenery around them; the trees burst into deep reds and oranges, casting an warm, eerie glow throughout the forest. The clown king had but one purpose...to find the Wraith, and to become an adversary to his cause. 

    However, he would not bow to him. No...Modicum does not bow to anyone, no matter how "powerful"...he simply wanted a piece of what the alabaster stag had to offer, and he had ways of getting it. 

    It isn't hard to find him - his pelt is blindingly white, his eyes red with the blood of his enemies. Modicum is surprised to find that he isn't much taller than the clown (granted, this means nothing...height is just a trait, and this stallion has a reputation that exceeds it). However, Gryffen does not stand alone today - another one, smokey coat painted with blotches of white, has reached him before Modicum Mortem. His eyes roll in frustration - is this man ever alone? It seems he is always followed, if not by his followers of the now-fallen Taiga, then by an ever-growing number of mares. 

    God, this guy was brilliant

    Mortem decides to do what he does best - stalk. He has heard bits and pieces of the interaction already, but he wants to know more, especially an answer to the smokey mare's question: why would a king destroy his kingdom?

    A good question indeed, and one that could make this stallion everything the clown was looking for...he just had to wait. 

    Modicum Mortem

    They all float…

     

    |Proceed with Caution|


    Reply
    #8
    look what you made me do.
    ”Sometimes the best way to punish your enemies is to take away what they love most.” The interest is sparked and she willing follows him now. It never took much, just dangle the bait and they always take it. Using his magic wasn’t always necessary, most were willing to lay out their cards. Some were just easy to read. They begged to be manipulated, to be used, to blossom to their full potential. It never had to be said, it was told in the glint of the eye, the toss of a forelock, a sigh.

    ”More curious is why you were alone in the forest.” An ear ticks to the side, catching a sound in the distance. He doesn’t turn his head but continues to move deeper within the woods with the foal behind him. One doesn’t need magic to know when they are being followed. For now he says nothing to the silent stalker, biding his time to see what he would do.  He is nimble, easily finding his way over earthy roots and fallen trunks. He had never thought of his shortness as a burden, it had always worked to his advantage. It hadn’t stopped him from killing or winning fights.

    His plan is to find Thana and bring the foal to her. Perhaps let her work her diabolical madness on the foal first before getting his hands completely on her. A soft whistle pierces the incoming darkness, a call for his companion to meet them halfway. Best to have a little backup when he finally calls out whoever has been following him…

    Gryffen


    @[Thana] @[Dynast] @[Modicum Mortem]

    BTW I'm afraid of clowns and your html terrifies me hahaha
    Reply
    #9

    His explanation intruiges me.  The thought indulges my young mind.  To destroy your enemies, take from them what they love most.  It made sense to me.  Given I was a pawn once...

    My black coat glimmered in the mist of the Forest.  The rain did not reach me as strongly here but still a slickness clung to my hide.  I didn't mind the moisture.  I actually preferred it.  As we winded through the mists his question comes forth.  I wonder how interested he truly is but given my interest, hidden behind ruby gems, I indulge him, "My mother left me on the beaches of Nerine.  All I remember is her telling the Queen there that I was Waylans daughter and that I may be of some use to her."  I pause briefly as I search for anymore details from that day, "I watched my mother disappear into the sea.  She turned into a sea creature of some sort.  So I escaped." I watched for any sort of reaction in his face.  If he would know the name I spoke of.  I had never met my father but something in the red of our eyes makes me believe we are more than just strangers...

    The flicker of his ear catches my attention.  It wasn't the casual twist given to hear words.  It seemed more direct. My skin quivered as instinct took hold of me.  That feeling you get when another pair of eyes are studying you.  Watching you.  He did not stop so I kept up with his pace.  Fighting the instinct deep inside me to begin to transition...

    Dynast
    Friends with the Monsters


    @[Gryffen]  and Morty but I don't know off the top of my head how to spell it so I can tag you lol sry
    Reply
    #10
    THANA.
    (as black as your soul)
      She is never far.

      When his voice reaches her, her interest is piqued – he did not often call if he did not have something of interest to say, or something of substance to bring to her attention. She is roused from the tranquility of her solitude, as her long and agile legs lift her lithe and slender canine body from the dampened soil, searching the frigidity of the gentle breeze for a trace of his scent. He is seeking her, a wraith stark and bright against the darkness of the vegetation, while she, a shadow personified, carries herself through the thicket with deft precision.

      She does not remain a wolf – her swift and prowling stride is soon little more than a saunter, as her legs elongate, giving way to her natural equine bone structure. Her gaze, nonetheless, is the same, two-toned and searching the seemingly endless darkness of the woodland, while thick fog envelopes her in its icy chill. Her soft and downy fur is soon sleek and flattened over the length of her sloping spine, as her shapely and muscled legs carry her deeper into the forest, his voice soft and echoing somewhere within. It does not take her long to find him.

      And when she does, he is not alone – and there is a shadow of a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth, and a glint of mischief shining in her single, dreary gray eye. Her once tousled mane lay damply across the slender curve of her neck, where droplets of rain trickle down her column, falling into the ridges where muscle and tissue lay across the canvas of her bones. She does not go to him, though she yearns to press her skin flush against his own and to pluck the vegetation entangled once again within his pale tresses.

      Rather, she is still and breathless before him, while her gaze hungrily searches his own, longing to know why he had called her from the shadows. There is a quiet stirring of giddiness within the roiling pit of her belly as her empty, soulless black eye roves over the youth following behind him, anxious and eager to know of what is on her wraith King’s mind – all the while aware that somewhere hidden away within the copse of pine trees beyond him, someone was watching.


    @[Gryffen] @[Dynast] @[Modicum Mortem]
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