Wreak Havoc || Any

[Tymber]

Lithe steps carry the desert stag from the redwoods of Taiga into the birch trees of the Sylvan woods. Poll is held high with arched crest as he parades through the autumnal leaves. His steps are silent and quick, bringing him quickly to the heart of the kingdom. It smells of blood and the air tastes thickly of the substance. While he couldn't say he enjoyed it, the stallion couldn't say it disgusted him. (His own birthland had been twisted and dark, he was.... desensitized) 

"Hellloooo?~"

He croons into the darkness, sea colored eyes peering from the sooty buckskin fur of his angular face. The creamy phantom is curious as to who wandered in the circus tent like woods. Whomever they were did their wandering quietly or during the day... Yeah, that would make sense. 

The man continues on then, lengthy limbs carrying him easily through the trees. The deeper he wandered the stranger it got. The trees seemed to squirm, and bushes seemed to slugishly pull themselves away, disembodied whispers floated angrily through twisted branches. The creamy stallion shudders and stands still amongst the speaking forest. 

What a strange place this Beqanna was turning out to be.

[Kreep]

Kreep

I am coming out more and more from my seclusion. Dynast continues to abuse (my bloody eyes has healed, and since been traded in for a deep cut across my lower lip. It hangs there, swollen and throbbing), and Mama continues to nurture. Each bruise and scar I come back with she kisses, telling me how handsome and strong they make me look. Oh yes, I like strong.

I’ve been practicing chameleoning myself within my surrounds. I mimic the ivory of the birch trees, I copy the orange and red of fallen leaves. I can just about copy anything around me.

Lost in my thoughts, I hardly see the curly-eared man. I run, head first, into his broad shoulder. I recoil, if only from the fact that he did not smell of my forest. Tiny ears pin back in fright. “Who are you?” I ask, letting a puff of air out from my nostrils.

God called in sick today

@[Tymber]

[Astarael]

Astarael

herald of death

The shadows of the forest had slowly become her truest companion. Bathed in the comfort of its darkness she moved silently throughout the whole of Sylva. Shielded by the lively sounds of her new home her footsteps are light upon the fallen leaves. The kingdom of Sylva had become the center piece of Beqanna’s unrest. Misfits and freaks alike had flocked to the seething darkness her king had created. Likewise, there was not a single face that the Demon Queen had not yet memorized. The absent of new faces were beginning o feed the mare’s boredom. She thirsted for new blood.
 
It is almost as if fate had agreed with her when the sound of an unfamiliar voice seeped into the depths of her hidden place. It beckoned calling forth the intentions of those hidden from view. Hungrily her body lurches forward in search of its owner.
 
Lingering just outside of the cream coated stallion’s sight, Astarael sent her red tongues of fear before her. Soon the stranger would feel it’s effects – the tickling of unease as her red glow wrapped itself around him. Just as she prepared to reveal her demonic beauty to the new comer, another broke into the clearing.
 
Kreep. Krone’s bastard and Mortem’s newest play thing. The colt is surprised by his unexpected discovery and she can’t fight her amusement at his display. Despite her disdain for Krone, she was Kreep’s queen and it was her duty to protect him. Pinning her leathery wings against her side she drew alongside the colt.
 
“You would be wise to answer the colt,” she advised as she tightened her aura around the stranger.

Darling, you have no idea what's possible...

@[Tymber] @[Kreep]

[Elise]

||Do not stand by my grave and weep, for I am not there. I do not sleep.||

He is alone for mere moments before the shadows part and spit out a small boy. The child runs directly into the rounded shoulders of the stag's creme sides and sends tiny shockwaves of fright through the passing man. "Oh greats Scotts! Are you alright?" Tymber exclaims, interrupting the frightened child in the process. Sapphire hues dart over the small figure before him and before he may have the chance to reply his tongue is crippled, muscles growing rigid as the trees surrounding them. A marvelous glow overtakes the two and seems to light delight in the boy. A twisted ache grows powerfully strong in the man's stomach as fear paralyzes his angular bodice. It is when he begins to feel ever so terrified that a winged woman steps quietly out of the shadows. They are of the same lithe build (though attract many differences) and height, but the woman before him is marred with hideous dragon like wings. They are tipped wit dagger like claws that Tymber envisioned ripping easily into the thick flesh of his hide.'You would be wise to answer the colt.' the demoness speaks, her eyes peering curiously into the enter workings of his mind. "T..." He pushes against the emotions that crowd his brain. "Tymber. I am Tymber." He chokes, brows drawing together as he glances between the boy and who he presumed may be his mother? "Wh-..Who are you?"

Tymber