All his life, he had been the freak show.
The joker.
The clown.
The one everyone underestimated until they were lifeless under his dark hooves. As a child, this thought actually bothered him. He used to hate himself - the blood that coursed through his veins making him the way he was, the parents who could never truly love him, the fuckers who found it funny to pick on him. But, as he grew, as he found his strength and expanded his intelligence, he grew to enjoy the name-calling, the underestimating - because little did they know the damage he could cause, the carnage he could create.
He didn't know why he loved killing so much. It was just an innate feeling in his chest, something he was unable to control. From his early years, he loved seeing (he loved tasting)others' bleed, he loved feeling them squirm, hearing them begging for their lives. He was also unsure of why murdering foals was so intriguing to him - maybe it was because of the innocence in their eyes and how trusting they were, maybe it was because he hated them for having what he hadn't: a childhood. It wasn't something sick and twisted (well, it was, but not in a perverted way like so many assumed) - he simply enjoyed how it outraged those around him.
He smirked. Good. Let it.
He took the circumstances of his life and made them into something. Transformed himself into the clown - the one everyone despised, the one everyone dreaded. He relished in the fact that people couldn't stand his presence; he knew this so very well. He knew how hated he was - he just didn't give a fuck.
Mortem hadn't forgotten Gryffen's task - it lingered in the back of his mind every minute of every day. The test that would make him worthy - with no traits, he had so much more to prove to him. From the field, he makes his presence known, something he does not do very often. A call to anyone who sought revenge, for those who deserved death for their wrongdoings. He wanders into the dense brush once more, waiting for someone to approach - someone to "help" by destroying what destroyed them.
Modicum Mortem
They all float…