Zain
The sun sets on another day in the Pangea. Dried blood cakes my nostrils as the sickness of the land takes hold. It would be enough to convince others to move from this land. To be free of the cancer that seeps from its core. But I am not that weak minded creature. I have a purpose and I await instructions from my Dark God.
.
It comes as an image, the marked chestnut, and it comes with a demand. Kill. My eyes close in jubilation at my God summoning me to complete such a task. I did not care if the equine wreaked havoc on all of Beqanna, throwing it into the dark ages. But, the command comes from the one I worship and would die for, so I act...
My sickly form moves quickly. The air is thin and causes me to breathe heavily before I am even started on my journey. A cough rattles through my chest, spitting droplets of blood onto the sands of my home. The crimson liquid is quick to recede into the soil, the cursed kingdom consuming every bit of life bled onto her shores. With each stride I am drawn to the eastern part of the territory. My red pitless eyes seeking to find the one who has been condemned. I can taste his blood, feel his fear.
I arrive just as another takes claim to a task I am sure was meant for me, but I do not attack. I watch. More arrive and soon they are fighting amongst themselves. Some to save the victim, and some to be his undoing. Cats begin to prowl, striking with claw and teeth. Winged beings come as saviors(fools, you cannot save the damned). I chuckle lightly as I turn to circle the gathering in another direction. That is when I see her. A malicious grin spreads across the only lips I have left. I needed health and she hadn't been here long.
"Thank you mother." Is my final words as the bayed mare who had bore me -cursed me- collapses to a heap of bone and flesh. Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust, Mother. I feel an electric surge of adrenaline fill my veins as her life renews me. The air no longer rattles in my lungs and blood does not spew from my lips.
I have hardly rejoiced in my ecstasy, when a pegasus leaps from the crowd in a feeble attempt to save my lifeless mother. I cackle louder as I slip from his grasp and watch as he looks in confusion at what has happened. None were safe here and they had gathered so conveniently for the slaughter. They were but sheep, waiting for the wolves.
Attention turns again to those gathered. My powers would work from this distance and with so much life dangled like treats before me, I can't help but sample each piece. Slowly, with each nibble, I find the rips in my coat begin to not fester as badly. The oozing of puss does not leak as it had and the rank stench of death is not so thick upon me. And a hunger rises within me to want more, so I focus my magics on the one who is the walking dead. I reach the fingers of my powers deep into his core. Exploring the edges of his body and feasting on the strength of the chestnut stallion. What I find intrigues me and what I seek cannot be found within him. He is disease at its finest. And, for a moment I am pleased to call him my Grandfather...
Possesses health transference
and may steal your health.