09-03-2015, 03:43 PM
Fuck, fuck, fuck. That vile little cunt.
He’d been fucking minding his own business, doing what he had every right to do with his property, when the bitch had come in and torn him apart. One moment he’d been teaching little broken Noellen a lesson, the next, experiencing more pain than he’d ever thought possible. And despite all his power and strength, he’d been completely powerless to stop it.
And now he’s stuck here. In the fucking afterlife.
His tenuous connection to his frozen body makes it all the worse. He’s been forced to watch as his children - his new, talented, glorious children - grow up without him. If only he could be there to lead them. He would make them great. He would make them feared.
But instead he’s here, in this cold shadowland where the dead roam.
He’s seen many of them, the other dead, but he’s made no effort to interact. They are lesser, beneath him. He shouldn’t be here - he’s not done! He has so much left to do. He has sons and a wonderfully talented daughter that need his guidance.
He’s in a particularly foul mood on this day. He’s just become aware of the presence of new foals in Silver Cove, new foals that are not his. It enrages him to think of some other fool stallion impregnating his Killgore (if only he knew it was his own father that had done the deed). He should be the one there, they should be his children to carry on his line.
He just wishes he could get his hooves on the bitch that had put him here. If he had his way he’d destroy her the same way she’d destroyed him. He’d hold her dragon body still with his power and cut her up slowly, dragging it out. Then he’d hunt down her little bastard of a son and kill him in front of her. Then finally, he’d rip the blood from her body and let her die.
It’s nice to think about, though he knows it will never happen. He’s fucking stuck here. If only he had some way to communicate with the mares of Silver Cove, with his children. They’d avenge him, he’s sure. Or die trying anyway. But he doesn’t even have a way to talk to them. None of his children have talents concerning the dead.
“FUUUUCK!” He screams out his frustration to the shadows, startling a few of skittish dead that are nearby. But he doesn’t care. He’s stuck here, and he’s tired of it.
He’d been fucking minding his own business, doing what he had every right to do with his property, when the bitch had come in and torn him apart. One moment he’d been teaching little broken Noellen a lesson, the next, experiencing more pain than he’d ever thought possible. And despite all his power and strength, he’d been completely powerless to stop it.
And now he’s stuck here. In the fucking afterlife.
His tenuous connection to his frozen body makes it all the worse. He’s been forced to watch as his children - his new, talented, glorious children - grow up without him. If only he could be there to lead them. He would make them great. He would make them feared.
But instead he’s here, in this cold shadowland where the dead roam.
He’s seen many of them, the other dead, but he’s made no effort to interact. They are lesser, beneath him. He shouldn’t be here - he’s not done! He has so much left to do. He has sons and a wonderfully talented daughter that need his guidance.
He’s in a particularly foul mood on this day. He’s just become aware of the presence of new foals in Silver Cove, new foals that are not his. It enrages him to think of some other fool stallion impregnating his Killgore (if only he knew it was his own father that had done the deed). He should be the one there, they should be his children to carry on his line.
He just wishes he could get his hooves on the bitch that had put him here. If he had his way he’d destroy her the same way she’d destroyed him. He’d hold her dragon body still with his power and cut her up slowly, dragging it out. Then he’d hunt down her little bastard of a son and kill him in front of her. Then finally, he’d rip the blood from her body and let her die.
It’s nice to think about, though he knows it will never happen. He’s fucking stuck here. If only he had some way to communicate with the mares of Silver Cove, with his children. They’d avenge him, he’s sure. Or die trying anyway. But he doesn’t even have a way to talk to them. None of his children have talents concerning the dead.
“FUUUUCK!” He screams out his frustration to the shadows, startling a few of skittish dead that are nearby. But he doesn’t care. He’s stuck here, and he’s tired of it.
K H A O S
iron son of carnage and oswyn
hell is empty and all the devils are here
Reference here
![here](“http://o.aolcdn.com/hss/storage/fss/68ed0c2438b0d60e11a75ab5bdd2323c/khaos.jpg"){kind=link}