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Post by fly on Feb 22, 2006 17:46:30 GMT -5
i am changing my charas, ive found i really dont have muse for my current ones, and i am switiching to Illuminati, so he will try out for dark king, and i will use a past post from CI2, if thats okay.
Voice your prophecy, shed us some light
Feel sorrow for mankind's chance to survive
Swallowed lies and swam in our own tears
A stab in the dark but it wounded our will
We won't be here tomorrow, hold on to me for one last time
What’s this then? Another challenger? You will greatly regret the action you have just committed, for, I, Unaltered Sin, never has lost a battle. Go home now fool, before you are ground to a pulp and are nothing more than the dust from which you came. I will rule over you, over all, for I am too strong to surrender, too stubborn to capitulate, too proud to be defeated. I rule over you now, and when I die, when you die, I will rule over you in Hell as well. I warn you, die or be killed, surrender or be killed, leave or be killed, and forever hold your peace…
Gliding easily through the snow on his icy mountaintop, his jagged scythes cutting the snow, his blackened body was a brilliant contrast against the pristine snowfall. It was flurrying softly, dusting his ashen cloak with crystalline water. He didn’t shudder, nor take any heed to the hindrance of the sleet upon his coat. Long pillars stretched as he traveled silently like a bird of prey. Tendons and joints that had been dormant as he had been sleeping for some time now crackled and groaned in protest to the exercise that had befallen them. His mane flowed like molten lava behind him as his strides grew longer and his pace swifter. His nape was elegantly arched and his visage neatly tucked in. harks were laced in frustration and anger, two emotions that were always with him. His tail was lifted high from his Arabian heritage, lashing at his flanks irritably. Knees were brought higher than normal as he woke himself up with flashy movements and an entertaining show for the watcher. His barrel heaved as he woke up his lungs and his heart began to pump once more with methodical beats. Orbs burned red with fury for being awoken at such a time. Nares dilated and contracted rhythmically, in time with his strides. Unaltered Sin picked up a slow canter to limber his bodice up for whatever was waiting for him, for whatever had disturbed him so rudely. His straight back, untouched by the likes of a saddle, shifted easily as he switched paths quite a few times, avoiding trees and rocks and other obstacles that stood in his path as he ever approached the thing that had stirred him. The brawny muscles, ever increasing in size and strength, rippled beneath his sinewy pelt as he traveled over the treacherous topography. The one who had awoken the king of the darks, the king of hell, would greatly regret that ‘smooth’ move.
I’ve sold my soul to the devil and I won’t never get it back…
So this tough guy would think he could beat Sin? They were of the same breed and strength, size and intelligence, but Unaltered Sin knew he could beat this opponent, this challenger from outer space that believed he had a chance against Sin. He clearly didn’t know not to mess with high authority, not to challenge one he would never defeat. But the king would give him a fair chance, a respectable shot at it. And he would respect the adversary. It was a requirement. He snorted with agitation as he peered stealthily from behind an evergreen. The challenger didn’t seem fit to rule the kingdom of Satan himself. And Sin would not allow the dark race to go to waste. Never in a million years. This was the point at which he was going to put his foot down. He shook his head at the horse standing there, not believing he was a stallion. Twin towers pirouetted upon his dome, listening for any sounds. As soon as he saw the equine standing there, adamant in his ways, they, his harks, laced tightly to his skull in infuriation. The windows to his darkened, forsaken soul swirled with anger and hate for this stag that had come to challenge. He knew not of what he did, for he had just made the biggest mistake of his life, the challenger, of course. Sin had just gotten out of a fight. He was bored of fighting, longed for something more. His bones no longer ached from the spar, his wounds no longer bled, and all that was left in evidence of the spat was the rock-solid proof that Sin was now the dark king. Another battle won, another memory locked in his tortured mind. Now he had a life, a mate, a land, and a title. This stag had none whatsoever, breaking one of the rules of fighting. Sin shook his dial, closing his eyes in shame at the steed. The stag could not, however, see Sin, for he was so carefully hidden downwind of the opponent. The mist of freezing snow had ceased altogether. Sin could once again see. He furled his brow in frustration. He was angered that someone dares to challenge him for the kingship.
Still hidden painstakingly, he made only his voice known in the deathly silence of the mountaintop. His raspy vocals were hauntingly chilling, like that of a murderer’s, right before he makes his kill. They were enough to scare any stallion senseless. His voice was actually quite calm and quite unsettlingly calm at that. The brute was biding his time, just waiting for the right moment to talk, to disturb his challenger in the biggest way. He stood there with anxiety chewing at his mind, that annoying voice waking up, and talking to him as he waited for the moment to strike. The voice however had no intentions of waiting, and began to pester him. The voice of insanity, that only Sin could hear. It had always been there, hindering him to no end. Perhaps it had been that the voice was endowed to him because he was the son of an angry mare that had been cruelly force bred by the king of the darks on a different island. He had been a mean king, no heart, no soul, just hate and evil. Sin had gotten the mindset of his father, as well as the attitude. He knew to do his father proud he would have to never lose the dark throne. From his mother, he had inherited her coldness and lack of affection. She had abandoned him, and he had washed up on the island as a mere colt. Now, seeing as he had been an orphaned colt, who would have thought that he would later become the king of the darks? Funny how things work out in the end, he thought with a smirk that played about the edges of his tightened maw. He shook the thoughts from his head and tried to focus on the task at hand: outsmarting the opponent presented before him. He still stayed in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to speak and hopefully strike a deal with this brujo that had come to his ‘doorstep’ in pursuit of the dark throne. Sin had a wickedly simple plan that just might work if he presented it correctly. The stag would then have to be willing to oblige, but the offer Sin was about to make would prove hard to resist. Flexing his jaw muscles, he released the tension in his maw and spoke his words with a chillingly calm demeanor.
I accept your challenge, but you know you will greatly regret it. Anyhow, I will make you an offer you can’t hardly reject. Listen to me now, stag, for you might be interested. I know by your mien and your scars that you are a seasoned fighter, a respected stallion. You are strong; I can see it in your eyes. We could make a great team. You don’t have to fight to do it either. We would be greatly respected, feared, and we can be great allies if you comply. So I will make you a deal. I will allow you to be dark lord. Ridd!ck doesn’t do a thing for me, never has, and never will. Go kick him out, with permission from me, and take it. I have no heirs yet, and if something happens to me, you automatically get the position of dark king. I don’t plan on having any foals for quite a while, as I am only four, and I have a while yet till I am infertile. Take it or leave it, but it’s the only easy way without blood and gore. We can make a great team, only if you do what I say. I won’t treat you badly as lord. You will be just as respected as me. We will make a great pair, roaming far and wide, think of the infamy!
He finished, watching the horse intently, but not allowing the horse to see him. He was still hidden, his whipcord lashing irritably at his rump. He still did not want to make himself known to the competitor, yet. Time would tell everything he needed to know. He was not scared of fighting, but he would rather have the strongest fighter on his side, in his army, rather than fighting against him. He really loved to fight, but was bored of it, and didn’t feel the need if something could happen to avoid it. Sighing, he shook his crania and waited for a reply from Santana, hoping it would be one of acceptance for the offer of dark lordship. It was a hard deal to turn down, but he did not know of this Santana, and he didn’t know of his nature. He figured he wouldn’t want to comply, and that would be fine by him. But he wanted to be his ally, his acquaintance, and he knew this was a great way to start out: by offering him a position of high rankings. They really would make a great team, as they’d be feared far and wide, their infamy spreading. Finally deciding to make himself known in the flesh, he stepped out from behind the tree, nodding respectfully towards his antagonist. He would fight with respect, if it came down to fighting. He was trying to avoid that, though he had some tricks up his sleeve. The four year old menacingly approached the rival, a twisted grin etched into his features. His cadaver was held low to the ground, his knees bent, and he approached like a predator; held low to the ground, crouching, and waiting for the exact and ideal moment to pounce. The slight breeze that had formerly carried snowflakes on its breadth was now whispering to him. Or was it the voice? Sin couldn’t be sure. He knew not what it was saying though, and kept his eyes trained on the foe standing before him, cautiously and forebodingly inching closer and closer to him, waiting for the stag to react. He didn’t want to portray ferocity as of now, but rather he intended to remain neutral till the stag had answered his offer, but he had to seem scary enough to discourage him from continuing the battle.
As he waited, he thought of all the things that could happen. If he said yes and became dark lord, everything would continue on as normal, and he could begin to kill and terrorize as he always had, before someone had come to challenge. If not, he would fight. He could win, thus having things go back to normal, or he could lose, a thought he shuddered at, and go back to being a regular dark stallion. He knew he would have to make a set of rules or guidelines to protect his rights as well, some policies that the stag would have to abide by or he would lose his ability to challenge. Sin stamped a hoof as he was thinking of something that would work to his benefit without encroaching too much upon Santana’s freedoms and judgment. Breathing slowly, drawing breaths meticulously in through his oral cavity and out his tear-drop orifices, he thought through every thing he had learned about fighting, from evasions, blocks and dodges, to hits, attacks and forfeits. As he processed thoughts, he kept a wary eye on the enemy, a cautious precaution ensuring his safety. As he knew, he would be the wiser to lay down the rules first, set the guidelines, spell out the regulations, and do all of this first, so he could ensure that things would play out his way, while giving some leeway and elbow room to the opposition so he wouldn’t suspect any fowl play, not that there was any anyway, but it was better to stay on the bright side rather than the shady side. Smirking as he processed thoughts of what could be the rules for his fight; he nodded as the voice spoke to him and gave him good ideas for the regulatory statements about to be made. Thinking over the things the voice had suggested, he smoothed out the rough edges and tweaked them, finally opening his jowls to state the rules of this fight. Clearing his throat loudly, he began:
You’ve made the wrong decision and it’s easy to see, if you don’t take the dark lord offer, but I have some rules to lie down if you turn away the proposal. First, we must fight here, now, in the diminishing light as nightfall is swiftly approaching on winged feet. Second, if you lose you either never come back to death mountain, thus hindering your ability to challenge once more, or you can become dark lord and never challenge me again. Third, I am allowed back in this territory should I lose. These are simple rules, and to win or even fight you must abide by them, or leave right this moment. Even if you lose, you have a good place to fall back on, a good place you can fall back on right now, and leave me in peace and we could become great friends. The rules shouldn’t be hard to follow, given that you’ve already broken one of the rules of fighting, but not one of my rules, yet. So please, feel free to become dark lord before you’re put to shame by losing to me.
As the tainted words left his kissers, he trotted away from the challenger, beginning an ominous circle, warming himself up for the impending battle. After encompassing the stag a few times, he decided to come back in, breaking the circle, allowing himself to rest. Long strides delivered him right to the stag, the King’s challenger. He was not afraid, fearless. A flint struck the hard ground, an inimitable sound only his rock-hard, chipped, splintered, and jagged daggers could produce. A smirk adorned his maw. A taunting, teasing smirk that was unique to Sin. As he stood hock-deep in the snow, he felt no coldness or numbness. The long winter coat he had grown was waving in the wind, rippling back and forth like a field of grain. Ice cold orbs looked straight into his challenger’s, willing him to answer and take the dark lordship. He waited, lowering his maw to the icy ground to nibble at the brave blades of grass that had dared to poke their jaded heads from the ground. The juiciness of the tender grass flowed over his tongue, reminding him of the rusty, metallic taste of blood roiling over his pink muscle of taste buds. He shuddered in delight, remembering the taste he so fondly loved. Now he was becoming the demon he really was. Not the gentlemanly act he had been masquerading all along. Now his globes burned red with insanity and a sick and twisted grin was plastered to his velvet maw. He took a few wobbly steps towards Santana, trying to psyche him out, though he was really being leery and creepy, like he was a drunk. The reminder of blood had triggered his craziness, though it would end in just a few short moments. After his “episode” ended, he went back to normal, his normal self, the lust for blood and murder not having overcome him this time. Still waiting for the chance to talk to his opponent again, he walked away and waited, for he couldn’t stand being next to the stag for too long. Shaking off the weird episode, he pretended to doze off.
As he pretended to sleep like a weakling, he kept his sense of hearing directed on the charger. As silent at the stag would try to be if and when he moved, he couldn’t fool Sin’s sense of hearing. He would hear any movement that came from his direction. He then became very still and pretended to sleep…
When he woke, he was surprised to have fallen asleep, but again, it was all a show. Just a trick to get the stag to think he was weak. But he really wanted this stallion to be his ally, his friend; for he truly believed they could do great things if they would teem up. He sighed, shaking his head, watching the stag like a hawk. He respected him for having the courage to challenge that was for sure. As he waited, he wondered what had been going through Santana’s mind to challenge for the kingship. He cackled quietly to himself, just humoring his self for he was bored waiting for a reply. As bored ness overcame him, he stood dejectedly in the corner, despondent to everything. Where was Tsunami? He wanted her here now. His mate, but only for companionship and not love, should be here right now, he thought. Mulling over it, he scanned the horizon for her, looking in the cave where they had previously been. The gaping mouth of the cavern was dark and he couldn’t see far into it. Sighing, he returned his attention and gaze back to Santana, watching him to make sure he didn’t pull any shenanigans. He knew the challenger had better accept his offer or it could be fatal, and not for Sin either.
He snarled from where he was standing, beneath an old evergreen tree, resting one flint and envisioning the sweet splendor he would receive when he won this battle. Mindless words the other horse spat as he thought about what the other stag was saying when he had first arrived in the location of the other stag. Now, he was several yards away from him, which felt like oceans away, but he didn’t care. The stag wasn’t allowed to attack yet, or he’d be disqualified. Sin stood in the shadow and shade of the majestic tree and kept a weary occulus trained on the stag’s every move. He wouldn’t make a movement though; Sin knew he was too clever and smart for that. Only if he was smart though would he be willing to take the lordship and settle down. It was every bit as important as the kingship. Sin didn’t know why he wouldn’t take it. He shrugged it off, looking at the sin, slowly sinking beneath the horizon. Darkness. He smirked, plotting and plundering. He could use darkness to his advantage. He knew this land better than Santana. It would be hard to stay up and move with agility for the challenger. And what’s more, in the dark it would be even more difficult. Sin smirked again, happy at the way things were turning out. The odds were stacked against his adversary. That was good. Not that Sin needed any help, for he was stronger in mind, will, and body than the opposing stallion. Pawing at the snow with a bloodied dagger, he watched with interest as it left streaks of crimson in the once-pristine snowfall. He sneered, laughing at the scarlet coloring. He was confident, but not co.cky. He knew lots of moves and the precise way to carry them out. This would be an easy fight, if there was one. The scar running down the length of his neck was hidden now by his mane. His scarred hide was waving in the nippy breeze of the mountaintop as he waited for a response to the offer and the rules. He was not sure how the stag would react, for he had never met him or even seen him around the island. He was not familiar with Santana. It made him on edge, for this was the first time he was fighting someone he knew nothing about. He shook it off like the light blanket of snow that had landed on his pelt from the branches of the tree. The moon rose high in the sky, setting Sin’s features aglow with an eerie light. Fire danced in his orbs. This was the time to fight, and he couldn’t wait. His orbs glittered like a serpent’s with excitement. Audits were once again pricked forward with interest. The king of the darks was ready to rumble.
so now stag, do you still want to challenge? The great Sin has never lost a battle. Never. Go ahead, but remember, it will be your bodice I will be kicking snow and dirt upon when you die, after this fight. You can’t survive. You aren’t accustomed to the climate here. Young naïve one, you shouldn’t have challenged. Now you are plunging far past the point of no return. You’re far too deep now to ever return, for there is no escaping hell…
Voice your prophecy, shed us some light
Feel sorrow for mankind's chance to survive
Swallowed lies and swam in our own tears
A stab in the dark but it wounded our will
Dust the apple off, savor each bite
And deep inside you know Adam was right
lust and power, indulgence, no fear
Left with his sins, how does this end?
We won't be here tomorrow, hold on to me for one last time
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Post by royalstandard on Feb 22, 2006 18:05:20 GMT -5
Okay, I want to audition Rampage to be the Light King.
Post:
Rampage cantered into a wide open pasture, the warm sun beaming down on his dark back. He breathed in the fresh air and rolled on the ground, enjoying the nature around him.
He reared up on his hind legs, pawing at the air, playing with a butterfly that floated past him.
He remembered his days of old, days of darkness, pain, suffering. He remembered killing and running to keep from being killed. Even though he didn't hate anything now, he hated that one thing...his past self. He didn't like to think about it, it depressed him beyond measure.
He walked slowly towards a bright pool, shimmering in the sunlight. He drank from the water. He opened his eyes and looked at his reflection. He could see the blood of ancient evil in his face, his heritage evident in the strong lines of his face. He studied himself, seeing the lines of hardship and hatred that had regrettably etched themselves onto his face. He sighed and pawed at the water, causing ripples to drive the image of himself away.
He looked across the pool, watching the humidity making the air shimmer with its own magic. He looked back down at the pool. Although he still saw his face, for once, he could see the changes in his face. Although he was still hardened from his past, he was different. He had a kind, gentle, caring nature now, and he could finally see that in his reflection.
He stood up and walked back across the meadow, his gait a tad bit lighter now. He whinnied happily to himself, kicking up his back legs and tossing his mane magnificently. He nudged a passing butterfly with his nose and neighed as it flew gently away.
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Post by kara on Feb 23, 2006 6:01:36 GMT -5
Light Queen |
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::Never coming home, never coming home::
It was only dawning, and Ghost was already awake. She tended to be like this, being light queen. Even though it was a bit of a dynasty, she had to wonder: Why me? Suddenly, gathering all of her strength, the minx galloped down the hill, skidding to a stop at the base. She tossed her dial, and snorted uneasily. Pawing a forehoof, she turned to go to the shade of a maple tree.
Whuffling softly, she gathered her legs under and layed down on the fresh grass. She drifted to sleep, dreaming of a time without the Darkness.
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Post by ~latima~ on Feb 23, 2006 6:42:32 GMT -5
Dark Queen
I will use first person for this charra. Her name is crimson hell
I opened my two orbs, a glimpse of red was all that I could see, I looked into my own eyes, I saw coldness, dark, and more red.
What was happening, why was it doing this? A rush of pain spread through my limbs, it was like I was transforming, but my bodice wasn't changing at all. Another sudden rush, but this time, of evil, it felt exasperating, it felt-brilliant.
I closed my optics, seeing more than when opened, I had the power, I thrived in it.
A laugh emitted from my maw, it echoed through and out of my brain, cold hearty laughter.
A burst beated in my heart, I raced through the lands, adrenaline pumping through my blood less veins, a figure came closer and closer, only was it to be the king of all hell.
"M'lord, A wakening has come." I said, the wakning was actually me, I became from light to dark, only because of what I believed. I laughed again, a smirk automatically spread across my kisser, I joined the king, starting evil where ever I go, causing terror, others flee from us, I loved the power-
I opened my eyes, flames opened aswell within them, another day of causing destruction, leading ruling.
Once a slave came up to me, he had betrayed my power and "pretended" to use it as his own.
I therefore struck him, beat him...killed him there and then, just having the power to do that would be wonderful.
I looked at the king with my cold optics, they danced the flames continuously, however it never heated or even warmed my heart, it shall always be as cold as ice.
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