Post by Necro on Apr 24, 2006 20:12:58 GMT -5
Drenching the undergrowth, thick with replusive shrubs, the murky light barely had room to spread. The criss-crossing patterns struggling through the murderous oaks swarthy blanket. Life was preciously witheld within the depths of the forest, death a plague lingering with vile intentions. Thriving, gathering its bearing with the carcasses littering the earth. Blackened remains of what could be identified as bones seemed to be thrown carelessly about, portraying the scene in a even more hellish setting, if possible. Silhouettes flickered from tree to tree in perfect procession, scattering around in a frenzy then dispersing as an aurora of destruction overcame them. A violent reek of power and blood poured into the clearing, as a massive torso took up residence.
Thrumming of daggers fell silent, charred physique lingering at the halt for what seemed eternity. Dreadlocks were dusted from the perch upon a thoroughly muscular arc by a cautious zephyr. As the haunting whistle drifted away the statue strode forward once again, a polished gait earning no crackle of leaves as the battle worn scythes passed over them.
Time and time again the warrior had been challenged. Was there ever a battle lost? Hard to tell, but anyone who saw the proud scars ripped at the flesh of the varqs body, who'd say no. So much blood spilt, while the bastard had been young. The hue of crimson was reflected everywhere, even in the endless voids staring straight. Yet flickering in the mirrors was what one would call insanity. Even as the lust for demolition ate away at his soul, the crazed mind still remained. Hidden underneath walls of intellect, and calmness, dementia still reigned. Once provoked there was no end, as a berserker. Maybe that was why the title of King was ingrained to him? Invisible were the battle ready, coiled muscles waiting to lash out with hideous ambition. For sure they could be seen, but the true purpose was held back. A crazy prime stallion was what one might see. Apart from the stench that radiated fully.
Necro was being quite placid at the particular moment. Violent mood shifts usually kept him unpredicatble. At times he could be murderous, while at others amused and enjoyable. The mustang took no heed of the prey, shriveling from the doom his prescence indicated. Instead he was focused on listening, for the squall gently wrapping around his harks warned him of danger ahead. "Hurry lord, theres another before you." the daring voice whispered. With an air of alertness he swiftly followed the breeze’s directions. At one point in time he paused, only to gaze longingly at a single flower shining from the ground like some holy object. "I will greet you later, pretty" the hiss promised. Raucous laughter trailed after the lyrics, dentals snapping quickly shut.
He was attracted to gentle innocent items, playing a cat and mouse game where the mouse ended caught in a trap and assinated. Oh that memory was precious. With a last glance back at the single spark of color among the dead he swept along again with a wistful sigh.
"You are close lord, close" again the zephyr caught up with him. Necro listened, instead of brushing away the voice as he usually did. This could be important if the circumstances suggested so. Heaving his ebon ensemble through a curtain of oaks the various aromas hit him at once. Nasals drew in the perfumes, sorting them out quickly. What was this? The masculine scent was the kings, no doubt. A frown like grimace settled wearily upon his features. He was another challenger he would have to been done with the stupid bastard quickly. But as he slithered up to the borders his eyes widened slightly. A mild curiousity was aroused, along with a feral snarl trapped inside thorax. He poised near the borders, giving the demon a respectful distance. He was unsure of how he acted, for they had not been aquaintted at all.
As his gaze drifted unruffled to the lands the male gripped his attention first most. With a veterans skill he studied the baron castle, then just as quietly shifted to the remaining forest. With sharp, slitted ooids Necro met the eyes of the sky.
“I Demand a meeting, fool. “
the calm but harshly grating lyrics were stated with an undertone of threat.
“ Do not waste my time, speak to me or begone “
Again the vocals were stated, yet the threat was more distinct, traced by a snarl. The bastard had no wish to be violent yet, his mood was still airy. The predator had arisen though, and kept them both pinned in his gaze.
Thrumming of daggers fell silent, charred physique lingering at the halt for what seemed eternity. Dreadlocks were dusted from the perch upon a thoroughly muscular arc by a cautious zephyr. As the haunting whistle drifted away the statue strode forward once again, a polished gait earning no crackle of leaves as the battle worn scythes passed over them.
Time and time again the warrior had been challenged. Was there ever a battle lost? Hard to tell, but anyone who saw the proud scars ripped at the flesh of the varqs body, who'd say no. So much blood spilt, while the bastard had been young. The hue of crimson was reflected everywhere, even in the endless voids staring straight. Yet flickering in the mirrors was what one would call insanity. Even as the lust for demolition ate away at his soul, the crazed mind still remained. Hidden underneath walls of intellect, and calmness, dementia still reigned. Once provoked there was no end, as a berserker. Maybe that was why the title of King was ingrained to him? Invisible were the battle ready, coiled muscles waiting to lash out with hideous ambition. For sure they could be seen, but the true purpose was held back. A crazy prime stallion was what one might see. Apart from the stench that radiated fully.
Necro was being quite placid at the particular moment. Violent mood shifts usually kept him unpredicatble. At times he could be murderous, while at others amused and enjoyable. The mustang took no heed of the prey, shriveling from the doom his prescence indicated. Instead he was focused on listening, for the squall gently wrapping around his harks warned him of danger ahead. "Hurry lord, theres another before you." the daring voice whispered. With an air of alertness he swiftly followed the breeze’s directions. At one point in time he paused, only to gaze longingly at a single flower shining from the ground like some holy object. "I will greet you later, pretty" the hiss promised. Raucous laughter trailed after the lyrics, dentals snapping quickly shut.
He was attracted to gentle innocent items, playing a cat and mouse game where the mouse ended caught in a trap and assinated. Oh that memory was precious. With a last glance back at the single spark of color among the dead he swept along again with a wistful sigh.
"You are close lord, close" again the zephyr caught up with him. Necro listened, instead of brushing away the voice as he usually did. This could be important if the circumstances suggested so. Heaving his ebon ensemble through a curtain of oaks the various aromas hit him at once. Nasals drew in the perfumes, sorting them out quickly. What was this? The masculine scent was the kings, no doubt. A frown like grimace settled wearily upon his features. He was another challenger he would have to been done with the stupid bastard quickly. But as he slithered up to the borders his eyes widened slightly. A mild curiousity was aroused, along with a feral snarl trapped inside thorax. He poised near the borders, giving the demon a respectful distance. He was unsure of how he acted, for they had not been aquaintted at all.
As his gaze drifted unruffled to the lands the male gripped his attention first most. With a veterans skill he studied the baron castle, then just as quietly shifted to the remaining forest. With sharp, slitted ooids Necro met the eyes of the sky.
“I Demand a meeting, fool. “
the calm but harshly grating lyrics were stated with an undertone of threat.
“ Do not waste my time, speak to me or begone “
Again the vocals were stated, yet the threat was more distinct, traced by a snarl. The bastard had no wish to be violent yet, his mood was still airy. The predator had arisen though, and kept them both pinned in his gaze.
