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go to hell for heaven's sake; any, dark kingdoms - Sinner - 04-23-2018
RE: go to hell for heaven's sake; any, dark kingdoms - Arthas - 04-23-2018 Arthas
Another day looking for gains, Arthas was out in the field most commonly known for nomads and those looking for a home. Today was no different, the autumn breeze stroked his cheek as the days grew colder, winter was upon them and this was the most popular time to recruit stragglers. The dapple finds himself nearing the heart of the meadow, something catches his eye. It was far off in the distance but it was larger than a bunny, a pony perhaps? He lingers closer and his thoughts were true, it was no bunny, but it also wasn't a pony. What the fuck is that? He thought to himself staring at the dog, it looked like a wolf but larger more fucked up. None the less this was no place for a canine, he would simply have to take care of it himself. The dapple stallion pins his ears to his dome and charges full force towards the black dog. He passes the canine and kicks out his rear leg although the canine was quickly and swiftly avoided his blow. He turns back to gaze, the dog was not afraid, nor did it attempt to run. Arthas stands and stares as does the canine, could this.... he wonders to himself. He knows equines having shifting abilities, but would they be able to shift into this demon? A smirk grows on his face, what a wonderful assest to have for the kingdom. Show your true form he snaps, either this canine would talk back or it was truly amongst the bravest of wolves. A Product Of Your Despair OOC: mmm yea lol let me know if you want me to change anything! RE: go to hell for heaven's sake; any, dark kingdoms - Maugrim - 04-23-2018 god make me pay like the devil i am There is no shadow here, and the stallion’s uncomfortableness with the open field is apparent in the way he holds himself - taut muscles beneath his skin, dark eyes roving madly. His lake calls to him, the darkness of the damp cave wails for his return. But the urge forces him out of the shadow of Sylva’s terrible trees, and into the open. He needed to feel the control, he needed to finish what he has started, to be the bringer of death. He needed a victim - and there are no victims in Sylva, not yet anyway - so he came to where he could find one. Perhaps a pretty little thing with clouds in her head, or maybe a stallion with a bit of fight in him to give him a real challenge. The hunger drives him, the murder brings him truly alive. His dark eyes sweep the meadow’s tall grasses, turned gold in the autumn’s chill. His breath leaves his mouth in a vapor as he pants, scouring the field for what could placate him. Maugrim’s eyes rest solidly on the dark figure before him, unable to look away once his pupils found it. There is another there - a stallion - but that is not what draws the Riverlord's interest. He snorts sharply, a certain feeling brewing in his chest that he cannot place, nor was expecting. The dark creature before him was no victim, no plaything. It is a predator - whatever it is - and so is he. He can hear his dark and twisted soul call out, brother. Maugrim’s ears flick backwards into his two-toned mane, quickly stepping towards the hound with no hesitation. There is something that draws him forwards, something that is innate and instinctual and that he would not ignore. He comes to halt squarely before it, his chin to his chest as his dark eyes roll in their sockets, dry lips met with the dampness of his pale tongue as he wets them hungrily. His nostrils quiver in anticipation, a shuddering breath leaving his lips. The other man - a large, dappled stallion - speaks to it, commands it. Maugrim's eyes do not waver from the hound, but a single ear tips in the other's direction. He is curious too, about its true form, but he is sure that the creature before them is its true form. He says nothing yet, pawing at the ground beneath him with a single forehoof. He is content to stare into the depths of the eyes of the hound, to feel the blackness and darkness that thrives there, to feed off its terrifying energy. It awakens him (and heightens his need for blood all the more). “The darkness in you calls to the darkness in me. I am Maugrim,” the finisher growls a the hound after what seems like ages of silent staring, his dark eyes shadowed by a furrowed brow. “You know where you belong,” Maugrim adds with a sinister stare, lips rippling into a twitch of a snarl. m a u g r i m. @[Sinner] RE: go to hell for heaven's sake; any, dark kingdoms - Sinner - 04-23-2018
@[Arthas] @[Maugrim] RE: go to hell for heaven's sake; any, dark kingdoms - Arthas - 04-23-2018 Arthas
His attempted attack did not go unnoticed, the beast growls at him, he warns Arthas but he ignored the warnings. It was just one beast after all, he has never feared a single wolf, it is when the pack arrives that you need to grow wary. Though his attack was avoided and the beast prepares to attack Arthas, but the beasts attention was grabbed by another. Arthas too was able to sense another, it was a green and white stallion. The beast laughs, noting he has gathered an audience. It is hard to not the way you look he thinks to himself. The beast laughs that he was enjoying the battle they had begun. Arthas can not help but feel relieved that they did not truly end up having to battle, though he would have given all his effort he was no match for this demon. The tobiano fearlessly approached the pair, although he seemed a little less cautious than Arthas originally was. Arthas' attention flicks from the new stag back to the beast who notes Arthas caught him in his true form and that it was not a horse shifting into a beast form. But a beast shifting into an equine Arthas can not help but be amazed that this was his true form, but it only grows his desire to have him on his side. His attention flicks back to the paint as he notes on about the darkness and how the beast was meant to be with him. The stag finally introduces himself Maugrim Arthas burns the name into his brain. He was so caught up in staying alive with this altercation that he barely noticed the scent the new stag carried. Sylva he thinks to himself, a small grin appears on his maw. Regardless of a home the beast chooses, should he, Arthas would be able to get to know him better. His eyes flutter back to the beast an offer sounds grand, it seems I have more than one option he notes and Arthas lifts his head with pride. The beast looks at him, awaiting to here about his own offer Yes, My name is Arthas, King of Loess. He shifts his gaze to Maugrim before looking back to the beast my kingdom actually works in alliance with Maugrims home, together we wreak havoc in beqanna. My kingdom is built off of loyalty to one another. He pauses, he would allow Maugrim to speak for his own kingdom, they were a much darker kingdom. It was true Arthas enjoyed a little drama, a little chaos, and death was needed but he did not crave the taste of blood. Not yet at least His gaze settles once more on the beast, hopeful he would return to Loess but regardless content in being able to escape with his life once more. A Product Of Your Despair @[Maugrim] @[Sinner] RE: go to hell for heaven's sake; any, dark kingdoms - Maugrim - 04-23-2018 god make me pay like the devil i am This thing, though he knows not what it’s truly called, is the embodiment of death. He can feel it permeate the air as he draws a breath in deep to his lungs, tossing his head as the creature speaks to him. His blood runs boiling through his veins, the needs for satiation of blood pounding in his head. He sees nothing as he peers into its gaze; a bottomless abyss with no end and no beginning. A fearsome sight, for some, but a relief to the Riverlord. He snorts softly, then. Ah, so it is the true form - a hellish creature, almost ghoulish save for the fact that it is clearly canine. Maugrim’s gaze finally flickers to the other, his dark stare now clawing into the dappled stallion’s eyes as the creature focuses the attention to him. There is a lot of talking (Maugrim only speaks out of necessity) and he finds himself champing at the air, fidgeting beneath the hellhound’s shadowy presence. There is no water here (perhaps in the air, but in the dry weather of autumn, there is no humidity to be used) so he does not give in to the voice inside of his head, and instead maintains a posture that is what is to be expected from three beings having a chat in the afternoon sun. “Arthas, King of Loess.” Maugrim’s audible snort is not easily missed. King? His tail flicks idly as his eyes sweep back to the hound, ears still firmly planted backwards. It is rather enticing, he assumes for the creature, to be before a king. They hold power and dominion over their own country, whereas Maugrim hardly can begin to understand the concept. The politics and diplomacy of a king were never in his tastes, but he can appreciate the power they demand from their title, as well as their ability to do as they pleased. Maugrim’s eyes fall back to Arthas as he mentions Sylva, and their ties to Loess. I have no home, the evergreen and pearl stallion nearly spits, but then he remembers that is no longer true. Even now he can hear the whisper of the sweet voices of the forest, of the lake he haunts and the cold, damp stone of the cavern. Yes, he does have a place now and it has a name: Sylva. He hadn’t been aware of Sylva’s ties to Loess (politics, again, are foreign to him - there is only blood and power, which is the only thing he can truly trust), and he is suddenly thankful that he had been distracted too much by the hellhound to try anything with the King of Loess - Modicum would surely not be pleased with the outcome, even though he is sure the red-nosed forest King would delight in the story. The creature - dressed by hell itself - turns back to Maugrim and the tobanio’s skin twitches delectably. He has no title to offer the beast, nothing of value beside the need for blood that has controlled him since birth. His nose wrinkles at the thought as he swallows the hunger, ravenously fixing his eyes on the hound. He wants the dark beast to follow him to the forest, to dwell near his cave and haunt his lake, to constantly feed him the high that he is feeling right now. He would kill for it. A king, or a murderer? Maugrim’s eyes slide keenly to Arthas. Perhaps he should kill him, just to show the creature that kings can bleed. “What shall it be, dear beast?” A brow quirks here, dry lips cracking more as a smile splits them open as his eyes dance coldly back to the hound. “Or do you ask for blood?” m a u g r i m. @[Sinner] @[Arthas] RE: go to hell for heaven's sake; any, dark kingdoms - Sinner - 04-25-2018
@[Arthas] @[Maugrim] RE: go to hell for heaven's sake; any, dark kingdoms - Maugrim - 04-26-2018 god make me pay like the devil i am There is no tactfulness laced beneath Maugrim’s words. He has shown just about how much politeness that can be seen to an ‘ally’ (any longer, and his patience would clearly run thin), and part of him knows he would jump at the opportunity to rip into another’s flesh by any means possible, even if it was because a hound asked him to do it, and even if there is no water nearby for him to use. He waits with bated breath, dark eyes keenly fixed on the hellish wolf before him - the smoldering embers of its irises burning into the deep and endless blackness that is his own. The embodiment of darkness declines his offer with a growl, with which Maugrim responds with a sharp snort, his eyes sweeping to Arthas, nose wrinkling as a scowl finds the pale of his lips. A hooded brow positions itself over his dark expression, ears falling backwards slightly. “Another day, then,” he adds nonchalantly, wondering why it is that allies were so important, or even friends, when water and his own cunning is the only ally he will ever need. The hound brings his attention back, and Maugrim’s expression does not change as he meets the creature’s eyes once again - familiar already is the look of the hellhound’s gaze, causing the scowl to upturn slightly into an unearthly and terrible smile. The smile itself is almost unfitting on the normalcy of his hard and stoic features, which makes it all the more unsettling. The catacombs that is the ghostly redwoods of Sylva would harbor the creature well, and Maugrim wonders what other powers it possesses besides the brute strength of its canine-like attributes. “The Forest calls us home,” he murmurs almost in a hum, a chuckle vibrating deep in his chest. He moves past the hound, in the direction of Sylva. m a u g r i m. @[Sinner] continue in sylva? <3 |