01-05-2020, 01:06 PM
(This post was last modified: 01-06-2020, 11:44 AM by Shadowmere.
Edit Reason: Spelling errors
)
She finds herself tucked within a dark stone indent at the base of the rocky slopes that bordee the edge of the meadow. Swallowed in a cloud of her own loneliness. Hurting so many, manipulating her children for her own gain, even murdering children, this was her fate. To be alone. She reaches her scarred black muzzle to her stomach, of which is to soon be bulging with her second child from Atrox. That bitch child of hers, Naga's sibling to be. Hopefully to be a better daughter than that damned treacherous child was. She feels her anger boil within her, black eyes gleam once more before she allows sleep to close them.
Her slumber is rough. She twists and turns, her body aches and burns. The familiar tang of blood floods her tongue and she feels as if something cut her deep. She awakens with a fury, she heaves her slender body up from the ground, but when her eyes finally focus, she is not where she had laid her head. But she knows this place. The plains, the vast battleground shrouded in dark clouds, red tinged dead grasses are still. She could almost hear the pained risidual echoes from the battles held here long ago. She herself had never been a part of the wars here, as she was never tied to any of the lands. Preferring to stay unbound by law or under rule. She was her own leader.
Her thoughts are then thrown back to what was maybe reality? Before the sleek crone, stands two mammoth pillars of stone. One black as night, the other a deep shade of jade. Both engraved with differing marks. The jade with visions of wings, the black with horns. She looks between the two, and her eyes finally settle on the black stone, particularly to a carving of a particular pair of horns. Her mind shifts to her childhood and two of her most primal instincts. Fight or flight. She remembers the day...her mother with her great spiraling crown of horns atop her head, attempting to protect a young Shadowmere from the snapping, snarling jaws of a pack of hungry hellbeasts. But as much as her mother fought, she was outnumbered, only skewering a few upon her sharp horns. A final scream, and her mother collapsed onto her small, frail body. Causing one of her horns to catch Shadowere's face and knocking her head into a sharp rock, cutting deep into her lip. As her mother gasped her last dying breath, she heard these words.
<i>"..everything will be ok baby, for you are powerful..."</i>
Shadowmere's body quakes, a mixture of her old fear and new anger and thirst for power. The power her mother told her she had within her. Shadowmere was plain, no special traits made her stand out, no fancy mind control, or ability to fly, or the power to change the weather. Nothing. She bore traited children to use as a way to exploit them, use them to gain power for herself. But it never worked as she planned, for her children all left her. Now she had a choice.
The black crone, with her sleek maneless neck and chest held high, and her long tail trailing behind her like a thick white mass of spiders silk, moved forward with pride and a thirst for power toward the black pillar. She presses her lips to the cold obsidian monolith, and feels something spark within her. Her mind focused on her once great mother. She screams in pain, yet a distorted smile spreads across her scarred lips as shining onyx spikes split through her skin and spiral out from the atop her brow. Soon, her head is heavy with massive black Kudu horns. She can see them reflected back in the stone before her and a sinister cackle leaves her velveteen lips. With great power comes great responsibility, and she wonders what the cost for this gift she has been bestowed will be. Whatever it is, she is willing to meet it head on, without mercy.
*********************
Ooc: Short and sweet! Shadowmere chooses a large spiraling pair of black Kudu horns. She has no tie to a land.
Her slumber is rough. She twists and turns, her body aches and burns. The familiar tang of blood floods her tongue and she feels as if something cut her deep. She awakens with a fury, she heaves her slender body up from the ground, but when her eyes finally focus, she is not where she had laid her head. But she knows this place. The plains, the vast battleground shrouded in dark clouds, red tinged dead grasses are still. She could almost hear the pained risidual echoes from the battles held here long ago. She herself had never been a part of the wars here, as she was never tied to any of the lands. Preferring to stay unbound by law or under rule. She was her own leader.
Her thoughts are then thrown back to what was maybe reality? Before the sleek crone, stands two mammoth pillars of stone. One black as night, the other a deep shade of jade. Both engraved with differing marks. The jade with visions of wings, the black with horns. She looks between the two, and her eyes finally settle on the black stone, particularly to a carving of a particular pair of horns. Her mind shifts to her childhood and two of her most primal instincts. Fight or flight. She remembers the day...her mother with her great spiraling crown of horns atop her head, attempting to protect a young Shadowmere from the snapping, snarling jaws of a pack of hungry hellbeasts. But as much as her mother fought, she was outnumbered, only skewering a few upon her sharp horns. A final scream, and her mother collapsed onto her small, frail body. Causing one of her horns to catch Shadowere's face and knocking her head into a sharp rock, cutting deep into her lip. As her mother gasped her last dying breath, she heard these words.
<i>"..everything will be ok baby, for you are powerful..."</i>
Shadowmere's body quakes, a mixture of her old fear and new anger and thirst for power. The power her mother told her she had within her. Shadowmere was plain, no special traits made her stand out, no fancy mind control, or ability to fly, or the power to change the weather. Nothing. She bore traited children to use as a way to exploit them, use them to gain power for herself. But it never worked as she planned, for her children all left her. Now she had a choice.
The black crone, with her sleek maneless neck and chest held high, and her long tail trailing behind her like a thick white mass of spiders silk, moved forward with pride and a thirst for power toward the black pillar. She presses her lips to the cold obsidian monolith, and feels something spark within her. Her mind focused on her once great mother. She screams in pain, yet a distorted smile spreads across her scarred lips as shining onyx spikes split through her skin and spiral out from the atop her brow. Soon, her head is heavy with massive black Kudu horns. She can see them reflected back in the stone before her and a sinister cackle leaves her velveteen lips. With great power comes great responsibility, and she wonders what the cost for this gift she has been bestowed will be. Whatever it is, she is willing to meet it head on, without mercy.
*********************
Ooc: Short and sweet! Shadowmere chooses a large spiraling pair of black Kudu horns. She has no tie to a land.