| The mere presence of his appearance has often brought fright and chaos easily with those of the weaker heart. He has found thrill in such occasions, often stirring up his own discord since he had first come into this world. There was something thrilling about making another one fearful. Nevertheless, these were just games to him. The hound certainly was a not a force to be reckon with when it came to a personal business. He was not one to hold back when following the orders of those he calls at the time or when provoked. It is easy to mind his own busy while causally and lazily minding his own business in the field. He is careful to keep his gaze amongst the stirrings of the environment around him. The hound’s red and glowing eyes do not miss a thing—he watches as those who keep their distance, and by distance it is very far. But then there are those that are braver, or at least think they are, and play at the game of death without knowing the consequences. The dapple stallion is one of those. He can hear the shifting of the ground beneath him, the thundering of hooves against soft-padded grass. It stirs him from his indolent stance, ears twitching in the direction that the stallion comes from. His eyes narrow, and a snarl erupts from his throat in warning before the stallion gets too close enough. The warning is ignored though, and he organizes himself for the defense against the stallion’s move. It was obvious there was to be a fight. Sinner welcomed the challenge with open-wide arms. He was always up for a challenge. He has seen battles and fights amongst others. This certainly was no different to quickly analyze and predict the obvious move of an attack on him. He moves with a swiftness that time and experience since birth have given him to be so agile in his movements. The quickness of his actions leaves him untouched by the stallion. Sinner quickly turns onto the dappled stallion. Instinct is quick to give in as he sounds another growl—a warning to leave or be eaten alive. He surely would not mind a snack right now. However, the stallion risks such warnings again. What a fool, he thinks. He hears the demands from the stallion and lets out a soft, bark-like laugh. It is not so easy to command the hound without contract—there are always benefits to swipe in before giving his full loyalty to anyone. But before he speaks, it seems their activity has yet drawn another. He overlooks the other stallion, something dark and evil stirred beneath the surface of him. Sinner could easily read another one that was formed, shaped, and lived a life of destruction. Perhaps it the way he was created to know such things, or perhaps a kinship and instinct that made him know such things. “It seems I have gathered an audience,” he says with a callous tone. A smirk is quick to grow across his jaw, showing white teeth that are sharp. It is a wolfish-smirk that always touches his ever darken maw when he is around another. He turns to look at the dappled stallion, eyes glowing with hunger and pride. “I was just beginning to enjoy our little brawl,” he laughs softly, “I suppose though you did not plan on becoming my next meal.” He licks his lips, imaging what the stallion might taste like. “But, it seems you have found me in my true form. I was created like this, but shaped and able to shift into what you are now.” He turns to the newer stranger that joined the group, a green tobiano. Sinner lets his gaze linger on the other for a moment before speaking. He watches as the other stares at him, searching into the depths of his eyes for something. For a moment he wonders what he finds. If he sees anything, which much isn’t always given easily to others, but he may find only darkness, pride, and hunger. The beast is a simple thing to please, but he does most of the pleasing. The green tobiano then speaks. He announces their kinship, his name, and where he belongs. The command is simple; one he might have easily followed by the way he carried himself—he saw potential in him to lead him to the top of the food chain, but there was more than one opinion here this time. “An offer that sounds grand,” he licks his lips again, thoughtfully. “It seems perhaps I might have more than one option though.” Sinner turns his attention to the other dappled stallion. “You must have something to offer why else would you come all this way?” He prods at the dappled-king, unaware of the current politics that played their game of thrones at the moment. |
@[Arthas] @[Maugrim]
Profile | Detailed Bio | Character Reference
Most likely always in his hellhound form