Don't push me, I've got nothing to lose.
War.
It’s a funny thing really, the way it comes about. Leaders grow angry over trivial things; battles are fought, they are meaningless…big bulky men killing one another. It’s truly laughable. A side comes out victorious while the others are left to rot. Simple, to most: argue, fight, win.
But not to him.
Battles are won by using a series of schemes…ideas to which the smarter ones usually end up succeeding. The real work is done by the intelligent people…days of planning, years of perfecting. They send the worthless to die, testing their plans and then fixing them to near perfection. “Brains over brawn” – a quote that so many make fun of…how could someone’s mind overcome the power in another’s body?
But war is simply a strategy game. If you are smarter, you will wear down the lesser opponent, no matter how large, no matter how powerful. If you are nimble, quick, and hungry for the win, it won’t matter what front they put up, or how much they underestimate you – their minds will always lose against yours. He has proven it many times.
His ancestors, near extinction, rose from the ashes like the phoenix, and now here he stands – a tribute to prior breeding excellence, with the blood of countless Italian ponies rushing through him. What he lacks in height, he makes up for with a robust, muscular body, an attitude that isn’t swayed, and a brain that can outwit many opponents.
His body is littered with scars from past fights – ones he has lost, ones he has won. They only heighten his hunger for excellence; to succeed, you must fail. To rise, you must fall. To prove the mockers wrong, you must allow them to be proven right. All is the game of strategy.
Which is why, as he stands before the infamous Wraith, he feels an immense respect for him. It isn't often he meets someone who he feels respect for - honestly, most equines he couldn't care less about. Gryffen's words are like the icicles hanging from the trees above them - cold, brutal, ready to pierce through you at a moment's notice.
"Sometimes the best way to punish your enemies is to take away what they love most." Modicum Mortem's is now highly interested in the stag in front of him - oh the things he could do for the clown and his flame. A mischievous smile tugs at the edges of his lips, as he follows the pair deeper into the trees. He is uninterested in the filly behind the Wraith, but becomes particularly intrigued when a deep blue roan responds to his whistle. Her mismatched eyes and cruel grin give off the impression of pure evil. The shadow was going to have a piece of this interaction.
But he continued to wait.
Modicum Mortem
@[Thana] @[Gryffen] @[Dynast]