the Rift

Born of Ash [Darwin, Wilder, & Sons]

Mandrake Posts: 53
Mare :: Equine :: 15.3 :: 15

The night was dark and the air foul. Tallsun evenings were hot enough on their own, but here by the fires of Helovia, the scent of a mare's sweat and blood mixed with the ash and created their own sort of heat. The heat of motherhood and new life in its most sinister form took over the night. Accented by the desperate neighs of a mare birthing past her time, all seemed wicked.

From between the loins of a monster came a child more innocent and new than any other. The poor excuse for a mother recoiled from the sign of new life. She surrounded herself in shadow drawn from the corners and cracks of the heart; pulling herself from the sweat and afterbirth, she transformed. From the ashen bedside of helovia's heart, she emerged anew- a jaguar dark as pitch with a coat dulling from age. Her sagging muscles and aching bones pulled her closer to her newborn child; her rough, gray tongue slid across his skin and pulled at hi downy feathers. She warmed him into his breath, kneaded his chest to encourage his weak heart.

At the birth she was always kind. She would deprive them of her milk for a time, make them want, but she was always caring in her own way. She urged them to their hooves and watched them walk for the first time with pride. Now more than ever she felt a connection. This was her newest son, and he would be as brave and bold as his brothers had been. He was Wilder's child but unique in appearance; a rich chestnut with darker points and a white strip upon his black wings which covered his primaries. She looked into his eyes, freshly opened, full of spirit and life.

And then the fire from the heart seemed to ignite within him. He appeared in a flash of bright fire and was all at once completely powerful, forcing her back from his side. He was to be an independent child, strong all of his own. He stood now on the sturdy legs of a draft, and looked upon her with the delicate, dished face of her eldest son.

As she laid down upon the earth beside the heart, coated in ash and sweat, watching her newest son take his first steps, she wondered upon a name.

[[I played him just for this, hopefully you don't mind. Obviously he's al yours now. I sketched and colored him up- I figured the black markings on his face would be like Wilder's but more extreme, hence the black undereye. His eyes are grey but you can change that too. Let me know what you think? clibkie]]

Evers the Able Posts: 82
Hidden Account
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 15.2hh :: 12 Buff: NOVICE
Rita :: Greyhound :: Water Mold imi

The Able

It was a short enough trip from the deathly dark forest to Helovia's heart, the sturdy legs of the skinny blue following the scent of Mandrake dutifully as his soft velvet nose wrinkled at the rancid air. Evers entered the heated place as his new 'brother' slid into the cruel world of Mandrake and her sons. Feathers poking from the sides, his fathers species, an innocent babe who the Able felt the same sympathy for as he did the day Knox was born. What role would this child play? His mother transformed into her more deadly form of a jaguar, kneading her son in a morbid scene that Evers wouldn't likely forget. There was kindness, it was strange on her features as a mother loved her child. It was something Evers could not remember, Mandrake was not his mother, a past lost in mists and was painful every time he tried to remember. Like he was poking his nose into something he should stay well away from. A muffle and eyes snapped back to see the newborn on his feet and Mandrake being forced back, surprise moulding onto his features. Remarkable strength he seemed to possess, the concern and sympathy lifting from Evers' conscience. This one would be fine.

Slowly, Evers made his way to the newborns side who had now stood on his own. A nose touching the chestnut fur in a strange greeting, azure eyes filled with wonder and welcome. He wondered where Archibald and the rest were, in fact, that's all he seemed to be wondering these days. The quest given by father Earth had been put on hold whilst their growing family gathered strength once again. Gaze moved to watch as Mandrake fell to the ground and he proffered his head to her once in greeting, wondering what name she was going to give her son. Always a son. "What will you call him?" He asked in his quiet voice, not knowing what to say to the child that was now his brother.

The blue wondered where Wilder was, it had been a long time since Evers had seen that brother. He was the eldest and often considered their leader, although Evers was the next in age to him, Archibald had readily taken up the role as the head in his absence. Much to Evers' relief, he wasn't interested in trying to keep this deranged family in line, they would never listen to him anyway.

Wilder Posts: 5
Hidden Account
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 15.1 :: 18


Of course the white shadow's never too far away. He's not right at her side, but he sees her, and is watching. And while she labors, he's worried for one brief instant. He's not oblivious. She's aging, and foaling is taxing work, and for one moment, his conviction of her infallibility is faltering, and for a split second he wonders if she'll never leave this place, and whether the foal would. But those thoughts are silly, a waste of his intellect, as before too much more time passes, so does the foal from his dam's body. It's not long before Mandrake has shifted, grooming the boy as a Jaguar.

The approach of the second brother does not escape his notice- Wilder steps closer then, untrusting and wanting to be close enough to defend the son and his dam if needed. The thought is once more, an irrational one, for even if a brother defected, surely they'd never out and out attack the mother. Still though, the point remained the same. Even if he was a brother, Wilder was taking no chances. As Mandrake’s belly had expanded, the snowy Pegasus had been more settled, in a way. Or at the very least, when it was just the two of them; and he’d been even more reluctant to leave her than he’d been before. Yet if there was another, he’d watch himself for the most part, but every now and then he’d get snappish There’s a small smile as his attention is drawn back to his son, who’s fluttering wings and hooves as he is determined to stand.

Wilder locks up for a second, confused on what he should do, though the only real clue is his feathers ruffling as the foal is suddenly surrounded by flame, pushing the dam back from the newborn’s side. Seemed he didn’t just inherit traits from his sire. The colt attempts to stand in earnest, not waiting like some foals might, his wings hindering him slightly, until the boy figures out he can use his wings to his advantage, flapping in different directions before settling on one, using the angle to help propel himself up. He’s standing now, tail swishing happily, an look of ‘watch what I can do!’, before taking a shaky step. He stumbles a bit at first, and experiments with his wings, but he grows more certain of himself with each step, ignoring any help his dam or brothers might try to offer him. Steel eyes look around, from the black mare to the white horse, who has the same things protruding from him as the young boy does. This catches his attention, as the other two don’t have them, but he forgoes any adventuring for now, contenting with getting this whole ‘walking’ bit down to snuff. Yet like a moth to the flame, he’s drawn to the black big cat, oblivious to the other equines as he somewhat stabley walks towards her.

Evers speaks, asking what he’ll be named. He’d already discussed this with Mandrake; there was never any doubt the boy would, well, be a boy, and so Wilder had simply been waiting now, to give his son. He steps towards Mandrake and his son, eyes on the boy.

Doubt thou the stars are fire,
Doubt that the sun doth move,
Doubt truth to be a liar,
But never doubt I love.</style>


Kipp Posts: N/A
:: :: ::

Since losing his family for so long, the yearling had not strayed far from them. Fear kept him rooted beside Casimir, following faithfully wherever the brothers he cared for wandered. In truth, perhaps more than anybody Kipp longed for Emerson to appear, to return. Casimir and Evers were the only two he could remain with without feeling as if he were going to explode from a tangle of emotions that wouldn't be separated for a long time. However since the tiny arachnid had crawled upon pewter pillar to sink lethal fangs into tender skin, Kipp had lost all forms of inhibition. As if a phoenix he had been born anew in this world of delusion and shifting scenery. Nothing hurt, and yet his mind was scrambled far too badly. Emotions that would have never overpowered the submission and resignation that was born into every child under Mandrake suddenly surfaced with wild abandon, seizing control and driving Kipp into a fiercer being. Anger, injustice, and refusal to bow down...all things that were never found in the sweet, mild-tempered youth before. Was it all just hidden away, kept under wraps so that even he did not know of them? Or was it purely the direct effect of the hallucinogenic?

Whatever it was, the lucid periods were slowly getting longer as it worked its way through his system, and he thanked that fact when he followed Ever's scent to the Heart. Where had Casimir gone? Last he'd seen his blind older brother, it was during a mildly lucid period on the shore of a place he couldn't remember. So instead, he stuck close to Evers and prayed Casimir would do the same, as he knew he wasn't in the right state of mind to go looking for him. Who knew when the next bout of insanity would start? So Kipp forced his steel blue legs onward, sapphire irises shifting between hazy and cold. It made him feel sick inside, to feel such emotions. Comparing himself to Archibald, telling himself in a resigned voice that lived beneath the hallucinogen's influence that this was not him. But that voice could do nothing to stop it, and so he trailed after his frailer older brother with a stoic face, appearing onto the tender scene with an air of frigidity uncharacteristic to the Earth lover.

Or, it would have been tender, had Mandrake not been the one to birth the poor child. Kipp regarded her with distant eyes, and Wilder's protectiveness only made him snort softly as he stood by Evers' side. Heat, stifling, covered the area. Why the devil of a mother would birth an innocent in an area of death like this was beyond him, but then again it was Mandrake. Did any of the other brothers feel a hatred for her like Kipp did? It hid beneath all the emotions she'd constructed within him, a lurking beast that normal-Kipp quailed under whenever it announced its presence. In that moment the blanketed appaloosa felt a surge of pity for the child, despite the obvious strength he displayed in his first moments of life. The poor wretch had been brought into a world that would wreck his soul, twist his mind. Had it not been for Emerson, Casi, and Evers, Kipp likely would have been the same as Archibald and Tajheri. The thought disgusted and intrigued him equally, for though their actions repulsed him, they also intimidated him and commanded respect that made Kipp feel awed in their presence.

Instead of speaking- unlike Evers, with all his personal boundaries removed by the devious little spider, Kipp feared what he would say should his lips even twitch- the yearling stood, a silent statue, beside his thin elder sibling. Flinty azure eyes moved slowly over Mandrake, Darwin, and Wilder. Evers' form was so much smaller than his, though height wise Kipp was only growing a little taller. Lack of nutrition, likely due to his busy mind, had left him with a thinner frame than Kipp's healthy one. Standing there beside him, and knowing of their shared wariness of Wilder, Kipp's newfound darkness through the little arachnid's meddling had protective instincts tripling in an instant. Every nerve twitched, every muscle tensed, ready for a battle only he desired to initiate. Instead he leashed in all that frantic energy, that need to drive his hooves into Mandrake's body, and tried to stay as lucid and in the present as possible. Casimir and maybe Knox were the only ones to know of his delusional state, and explaining it should Evers see it or question his sudden new behavior was not something Kipp wanted to do. So like a stone bodyguard he remained by his blue stained sibling, motionlessly watching the new spawn of the devil.


Casimir Posts: N/A
:: :: ::
Within the night of coming here, the stallion could see well what was around him. He was calm and collected, something the other Casimir wouldn't have been. His vision was still just as terrible as his other, but he himself was different. He walked in a way that was rigid, instead of a free flowing type. He was strict, cruel, and didn't hesitate to do whatever he wanted, when he wanted. He had a grace with the other Casimir didn't have, and yet he was still able to get himself tripped up, but wasn't as clumsy. This white draft moved from where he had landed, which was a meadow of some sort, and looking around, couldn't figure out where he was. He was not very bright, dumb in fact, and couldn't talk very well, for his speech was just poor. He understood little of most conversations, and that is the reason he never got into one. He shrugged, and moved forward, looking for some place to go, for something to do, maybe someone to kill.

And then he smells something. It has been a while, but it smells of a new born soul to feast on. He lingers towards it, and comes to a stop on the edge of the massive create in the ground. And there they are, his own family, gathered around it's fires, with someone new in the middle. Another one? He slinks down, moving over past them all, to go and look at him. He is small and tiny, tan colored, with some different markings about. He doesn't say a word, just stares at him for a second, then his own mother. He moves away from the rest, standing on the opposite side of where his brothers are. He wonders what will happen now, but he is silent at he awaits his orders.

Darwin Posts: 74
World's Edge Protector atk: 5.0 | def: 8.0 | dam: 6.0
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 15 hh :: 4 Years (Ages in Birdsong) HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Antaa :: Common Zephyr :: Phoenix Skylark

Terra cotta lids slammed shut over my stormy pools as the world around me turned from that of nothing but darkness to glowing with an orange and red shine, a feeling of pure curiosity that only a child of my age could have crossed through my tiny being as to why the creature who had awoken me from the darkness in the first place had bounded backwards as if in pain. The glowing world around me was something I was beginning to find comforting and not as…terrifying as the others seemed to believe it to be.
In the midst of my glowing something clicked in the infantile cranium of mine, if I were to survive, to live past this one already eventful day I was going to need to somehow pull my awkward limbs out from beneath me and instead use them to support my slender figure that showed the Arabian blood that raced through my veins. With a snort and a flick of the brush that hung from my spinal cord my limbs that were almost as feathered as the strange appendages that grew from my shoulders, almost as soon as my hooves were settled properly on the ground the orangey glow around me disappeared and the world was once again swallowed up by the darkness of the place that my dam had decided to drop me.
Terra cotta lids once again flickered over my pools, sending me into a world of disorient for a second or two before sliding back to reveal the storm cloud hues once more, this time though they settled upon the form of the black feline who crouched not too far from where my hooves stood solidly planted in the ground. Something instinctual told me that the feline was something important to me, what exactly it was the odd creature was supposed to be though was something that I couldn’t quite wrap my mind around just yet. The sound of hooves hitting against the rocky terrain around me caused my ebony tipped harks to swivel around before settling off to the side in a comical fashion when something touched my flame hued coat. Jumping slightly I turned my dished crown to lock stormy hues with the blue ones of someone that I felt an instant connection with.
”What will you call him?” Something about the lyrics made my skin crawl, maybe it was the quite way the words rang out or even the fact that someone had finally decided to break the silence in the surrounding area. ”Darwin.” A strong voice bellowed out from somewhere behind me and caused me to once again spin around, clumsy still on my hooves it wasn’t as graceful as the movements that I would be able to pull off once I reached the full grown state. Flicking my brush of a tail once more I peered at the silvery steed who happened to also have wings, snorting I looked around to see that two others had joined our little party. All male. Why are they looking at me as if I am some poor creature who had just been murdered? Thoughts similar to that and some random foal-ish nonsense ran through my mind over and over again when suddenly a pang of some kind of pain wrecked through my barrel.
A look of surprise crossed over my childish features as I turned to look bewilderedly at my slender, wing covered barrel. What was that? And how would I stop that annoyance from taking over me once more?

[Tag : Everyone w. The Brothers and Mandrake ]
[Words : 5 . 8 . 9 ]
[Muse : Whatever was coming on my stereo and all of your wonderful posts~ ]
[Notes : Bleck, I’m not sure how I feel about it. It’ll get better once I get more into his character<3 ]

Knox Posts: 262
Outcast atk: 4 | def: 7.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Equine :: 17hh :: 7 Years [Tallsun] HP: 67.5 | Buff: NOVICE

The hunter flies through the brush and plains, his companion at his side. The family has prepared, the family is ready. They all must be ready for this, this day which they will at last reclaim their freedom. Knox knows naught of his eldest brother's child with their tormentor, he knows only the scent Manhattan begs him to follow and the burn of the hunt calling sharply to him, resonating in eight clear minds until it focuses together in one, ultimate reaction that propels him forward.

He is a rocket, he is a star. He is unstoppable, leaving in his wake thick hoofprints and the faint sense that something wicked has passed the world by. Like a deck of cards his appearance swiftly shuffles through eight bodies, each unique, each designed to reflect his family's past. His bridle slaps against his face and chest as its different reincarnations shift swiftly in time with the changing portraits of ancestors. He leaps into the air on the smooth black daggers of Anaan and lands and lands upon the chipped, weak hooves that had once belonged to Janos. He passes through woods, entering with a brush of Huric's bloody shoulder against the bark and leaving with a square cropped tail flying in the wake of the slender, muscled bay form of Zekiah.

It is Roanne the Sentinel's body who halts at the edge of the scene; his golden eyes that flicker first to a fading blue and then land, at last, on the black orbs of Dovev. The murderer has arrived, just in time. Manhattan growls at his feet, her hackles raised and poison spilling indiscriminately from her spit-coated lips. She is ready to kill the mare that has corrupted the child within her master. She has always been ready.

His eyes settle over the scene and he sees instantly the glowing form of a new child. Wilder's positioning at his side, and their mother's black body curled close to the colt, is a clear indication. It appears the family is yet another soul larger. The hunter's mind, fueled by the murderer's rage, listens intently to every word spoken. Darwin, his eldest brother names the child. But Wilder is foolish for thinking his mother might agree. Were Mandrake given the chance to respond, Knox knows she would insist on anything but what her eldest had suggested.

Luckily for Darwin, Mandrake hadn't had a say for quite some time now. "EVERS!" neighs the deep and violent voice of Dovev, who snaps his body to face the blue boy that stands so far beneath him now. "Take Darwin from this place, he need not see his mother die," Knox speaks out, his own features taking the place of Dovev's for a fleeting moment. Knox watches his eldest brother's features, sees his eyes grow wide in understanding and his body fall to protect Mandrake.

The mare does not need protecting. The mare needs only for death to find her as it has found so many before her. Wilder will find himself hurt as he refuses to leave her side, but.. dead? Only time will tell if their foolish brother will meet the same fate. Dovev's black eyes snap from the gaze of one brother to another. His brethren are strong today, he can sense their confidence. They are all ready for this.

With a chilling hunter's cry, Knox sprang forth in a body built to kill. Silver found its way from his eyes to Mandrake's blinding her instantly. Manhattan, faster than ever before, flew forth to sink her venomous fangs into the body of a beast. Together they attacked, curving around Wilder and instead bearing down on she who had oppressed them, tormented them, and chained them to this life. She was their curse- together, the sons would tear her down.

[[Take your best shot! Wilder and Drake are just punching bags at this point, though no one really wants to hurt wilder, just get him out of the way. If anyone feels particularly kind they might hold the old guy back. Now that Darwin's adopted we really need to finish this up, so post quickly and don't feel the need to wait for everyone! Once you guys have posted I'll finish it up with Drake.]]

KNOX and manhattan</style>
you can't look me in the eye and say you don't feel like a little destruction.</style>
image by D.R.F @

Evers the Able Posts: 82
Hidden Account
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 15.2hh :: 12 Buff: NOVICE
Rita :: Greyhound :: Water Mold imi

The Able

They came his brothers, one by one they descended on their newest brother. Wilder came forward towards his newborn child and quickly proclaimed his name to be Darwin. Evers nodded silently to himself, it was a name that suited a brother, but he still couldn't shake the feeling of pity he saw when he looked upon the child. He noticed Kipp silently move to his side, his face unreadable as he watched. Evers knew there was something not quite right with this brother, Casimir had told him as much, but the matter would have to be addressed later as now was not the time for that. The last of the brothers assembled and all eyes were on the child who had been dragged into a world he may have been better off not knowing. There was something in the air too, the evil intent was almost palpable that Evers had to resist the itch to step back and wrinkle his nose. Deep, intelligent gaze rested finally on Mandrake for the last time in his life before ears snapped back when Knox shouted at him in a voice he really really didn't like the sound of.

"Take Darwin from this place"

That was all the release Evers needed and he ignored the urge to turn around and glare at Knox for shouting orders at him. Instead he cantered forward to the little brown child, whose face looked bewildered and confused, picking up his bucket of ingredients as he did so. No, he need not see this. "Come Darwin! Away from this place, I am your brother and I will protect you." He said quickly, but calmly to the child, not wanting to frighten him as he attempted to inspire trust. Hoping the colt was following he allowed himself one last look back to the murderous scene.

He wondered if Kipp and Casimir would do their part, Casimir particular, his younger brother always had a timid side. Did he have the stomach for this? Did Knox even care? Evers silently answered that question himself with a sad shake of his head before turning his attention back to the road ahead. There was one place he was already thinking of travelling to, it was time he ended the quest he had been on for what seemed like an age. He may have no physical fire, but he had Darwin, a child of the Heart who surely must count as a symbol. Father Earth never did specify anyway.

The blue took in a deep breath and hoped that the God would have an understanding nature.

Tajheri Posts: N/A
:: :: ::
  i won't describe all the pain that i will bring upon you
look in my eyes, or did the shame destroy your vision

It was from a distance that Tajheri watched Mandrake give birth to the newest brother that would join their ranks. The poor innocent soul had no idea what he had been birthed in to. Had no idea just how Mandrake would use him for his own personal gain as she did all the brothers. For some time now Tajheri had wondered if any of the brothers felt about her the same way he did. She was no needed. She was a hindrance to them, if anything. Always having to answer to her was a pain in the ass. She only managed to piss him off time and again, but she had her protector, Archibald. His brother was an idiot, always trying to protect the mare that used them.

A rare smile finds its way to Tajheri's features when the newborn uses magic to push his mother away. A strong brother, he would be. And smart for already assuming that Mandrake wasn't needed. He inched closer as he watched Mandrake, doing nothing to hide the hatred in his eyes. Yes, he hated her. He despised her for the punishment she dealt out to him and his brothers. He remembered the day she had thought to punish him by attempting to show him just how fragile his life was. How she could end it so easily if she wanted to.

He still held the scars across his jugular and along his jaw from her.

"Bitch." His voice was drowned out by Knox, who came barreling in and demanding that Evers take Darwin and run. A quick glance at Slade and a subtle tilt of his head sent the wolfdog pup scurrying off after his blue brother and the foal. Another smile curved Tajheri's lips as Knox bolted forward and began to attack their mother. The sooty stallion wasted no time as he lurched toward Wilder who thought to protect the sadistic bitch.

Jaws opened as his teeth sought to latch onto one of Wilder's wings, hooves struck at dainty white legs when the two finally clashed. He had no feelings for his absentee brother and would have no remorse if he broke his wing and ruined feathers. Let him be earthbound and stoprake's game. He was not superior and Tajheri would drive that point home even if it meant tearing his older brother apart, limb from limb.

ooc:// idk if someone is supposed to be playing Wilder or if he's just an NPC for whoever is attacking him. if my post is considered powerplay let me know and i'll edit it.

Archibald the Dauntless Posts: 386
Absent Abyss atk: 6.0 | def: 9.5 | dam: 8
Stallion :: Equine :: 18.3 hh :: 10 years HP: 80 | Buff: SHIELD
Loretta :: Alaskan Malamute :: Time Slip Time
Head to head it's all or nothing.
"Welcome to the family, Darwin." Archibald's voice sounds from behind all the others. He is a wraith, tall and domineering behind the dark body of his bridle-ridden brother. His gold eyes spark with malicious intent as his pristine, feathered legs carry him closer to the scene. He looks at none other than Mandrake, the steely mare that has made him into the machine he is. Archibald the Dauntless, a stallion of duty and duty alone. His duty, standing now in the heart, was to kill this mare.

Planting his hooves firmly, Archibald watched as his friesian-blooded brother takes the first move. His eyes are filled with a dark pleasure and pride in the younger son, and in a flash his sooty brother moves towards the eldest brother, the one that caused the last incestual creation to enter their family. With cold, hard eyes Archibald sends his magic towards the winged brother, turning his bones hard and heavy. Tajheri will finish him quickly, Archibald decides, and he flicks his tail in the direction of the red and white bitch at his tail. Her eyes trail the blue brother as he steals away the newborn obediently, and quickly Archibald sends her to aid the pup that trailed the duo. Protect them.

Snorting loudly the Dauntless finally decides to move in for his attack. His body lifts into a short rear before his powerful hindquarters send him off in a deadly charge. His intent is clear and he will feel no pity for any son that stands in his way. He is on a clear path to trample the Irish Draught. Archibald tucks his chin and he presses forward harder, shoulder aiming to smack right into her and knees lifting high to send sharp and heavy hooves clear over her body to crush her. He wonders if she will die as easily as the Stormchaser had. Satisfaction rages through him as he feels his body connect with his mother's, and he slams his hooves down hard against her.

After all, Archibald is her greatest achievement.

Through the ages of time
I've been known for my hate,
but I'm a dealer of simple choices;
for me it's never too late.

please tag me

Kipp Posts: N/A
:: :: ::

There is sickness that lingers within this fleshy body, and yet it seems to flourish outside it as well. They are tense, a mob of killers and puppets that are tired of having their strings pulled. Anxious, yet still. Watching the hand that feeds, keeping lips over fangs despite desire to sink them into that unkind monster. Like wolves they circle, yet legs do not move. Lions roar for vengeance and for blood, and yet only stoic, kind words escape their still maws. A circle of bloodied, tainted, guilty figures and in the middle? The empress of them all. Yet she is unaware that her throne has been on shaky ground for years now, and her servants are ready to turn and topple her forever. At her side is the only innocent among them, a single raindrop on an inflamed throat, an ivory lily petal in a sea of black. He shall be spared.

Dark sapphire irises stare intently at this scene, aware of his similarly infused sibling's concerned expression. Let them watch. Let them fear, and wonder. Only lately have the ghosts stopped haunting him, the colors of the world exploding in fierce bursts and sparks of outrageous neon. Following it comes the dark, the cold. Eyes of a killer instead of a joyful wanderer. There is a sharpness to his features, a vibration along his spine that draws attention to the rigid pose he assumes. This is not Kipp, son of Mandrake, brother of many. This is a demon, just as much a removed and improperly placed soul as the ones that seize Knox's hollow bones.

Words mean little to this beast, and so he tunes them out. Only when one voice roars above the rest, demanding the attention of the brother at his side, does the twisted creature raise its crown and look forth in awareness. He has not forgotten the encounter a season earlier, where they had muttered in inflamed tones that the sick creature that had given most of them life must bleed and suffer beneath their hooves. Vapid expression morphs into something far more gruesome, a sick and twisted mix of a sneer and a devilish grin that belonged on the maw of a creature that had just delighted in another kill. Blood does not stain the pearls of his teeth, and yet they shall be painted in time. Roan body stands tall, pale alabaster tail flickering at a speed that shows his anxiousness.

It was Knox who moved first, and with that the restraints were snapped. A shrill whinny of fury and bloodlust echoed around him, a trumpet that heralded death. Let Darwin become the victim of Tajheri's punishing blows. Kipp had a score to settle with the bitch in his sights, and lean legs were in motion. The pack had scented weakness, and the warriors and ruthless killers she had raised would bring her down in her final moments.

Archibald thunders in similarly, but Kipp will not be cast aside. Where the Dauntless is large, Kipp is slender and swift. Like liquid he caresses the side of his mountainous brother. Before he has even reached her, he can taste the warm iron taste of blood on his palette. Feel the spurt of it lurching into his mouth, hear the shriek of her fury and agony as it ricochets through his audits like a choir of angels. A lunge, aiming for the tender belly that has just slimmed from the birth of his younger brother. Flanks that are starting to hollow with age. A bellow of triumph, a strike of hoof against flesh, as hard and as sharp as force and strength could allow. He tears, plunders, slices. When earth is felt once more beneath his weight, there is no pause.

Teeth ravage easily, tearing ribbons from the hide he knew so well from a waking nightmare he was only now able to surface from. Like nectar from the gods her life force stains his teeth and maw, and like a whirlwind he never loses momentum and never stops. Again he rises, the avenging angel whose wings have been torn, a wicked spear upon his brow, and he aims his hooves to crash down upon her spine. She will fall, and he shall celebrate her death and dance in the puddles of her blood, dance across the earth and pattern it in carmine hoofprints that only his brothers shall see the beauty of.


Casimir Posts: N/A
:: :: ::

C a s i m i r

D r a g My T e e t h Across Y o u r Chest
To T a s t e Your B e a t i n g Heart

He was ready for this, and a gleeful smile appeared on his lips. The joy of spilling blood always made him happy, and he sang a tune on his way to join his brothers in the blood bath, running along with them in a well practiced rhythmic dance of death. Moments like these were always golden for the doppleganger, for in his world this happened quite often. Him and his brothers were the terrorists of the horse world, shedding blood wherever they laid their fast acting hooves, crushing those beneath them like flies. No one was safe, and he himself had killed countless foals and pregnant mothers. The joys of being a killer would never be expressed so easily in the real Casimir, but this was not the real Casimir. Before he charged at her, making his move to help kill the mare that birthed him, he spoke, his voice in a cooing tone.

"Mandrake, dear darling Mother. You life has come to an end, and I intend to show you how much I love you; by giving you a quick way out."

He moved his body rearing up and aiming to put his front hooves firmly on her neck. He used his magic, speeding up time so that his hooves would appear there faster than she could imagine, and would snap her neck in an instance. He wanted to stab her repeatedly, but there was no such thing he could do. He had already helped kill her, and Wilder was next on his list.

"And you brother. You may have given this family a new gift, of which we most appreciate, but your love for Mother is too much. You need to settle down. Go to sleep, won't you?"

His movement when to Wilder in a fast once more as his magic buzzed through his body. His intend was to knock Wilder out, and he ended up head butting him. It was something, and he didn't want to hurt him, but wanted him to stop being so ridiculous and trying to stop the inevitable. They would all die some day, and it was Mother's turn, so why not today?

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Mandrake Posts: 53
Mare :: Equine :: 15.3 :: 15

She was not surprised to see Wilder emerge from the shadows, looking stupidly fearful and devoted all at once, as always. Too weak to hide his fear, too driven by desire to keep it inside. She understood the importance of this to him, but had yet to explain to him how little it meant to her.

She did not need Wilder. He had become obsolete for some time now. He may have been her companion all of these years, but he had grown old and tired. She saw him a mere shadow of himself, now blubbering at her side, looking upon the new child with adoration. But new children drank of their father's blood. The fire child would drink of his father's blood.

Emerson had been different. Different for her, different for everyone. He had not been meant to happen; he had been a crime of passion. She loved him. She loved him and then he left, taking with him the warmth she, once an old mare, revelled in. He had revived her in a way, so without him she took revenge. Wilder and this child of hers were not love; they were regret and hate led to death and brought to life together, a cyclical sort of action taken in a time of pain.

Evers, too, had arrived. Earlier than Wilder, but less obtrusive in his manner. She supposed that was not so strange, he had remained loyal in his own way. Though the blue scholar had never been her greatest achievement, she saw him as an asset she wasn't willing to give up. He would live for some time yet, she thought.

Wilder spoke, out of turn and suddenly, and her thick-furred neck snapped to align her dark gaze with his own. Did he dare speak for her? How could he have dared to think he would have the honor of naming this child, this living being of fire and light borne from her body and wrenched from her soul? Around the quartet, Kipp and Casimir appeared, skulking in silence; young Darwin flitted around in his own way, seemingly taking in his own power. Mandrake was tired, too tired to call them closer, too tired to strike Wilder down. He should have been thankful for her age, it was all that leaves his impudence unpunished. Still, she was not one to stay silent if a reprimand be needed.

But just as her hackles rose and body tilted upwards to bear threateningly towards Wilder, Knox arrived. The old cat sighed in relief, as at last a warrior son, a murderer son, approached. She could tell by the thundering of his hooves it was he. She was hungry, and knew Knox would provide for her upon request. "Knox, my son. Hunt." she commanded, her tones dark and powerful, her body expectant and awaiting. Thick and foamed saliva formed slowly at the thought of a fresh meal; it had been so long since she had eaten, properly served by her loyal sons.

But Knox did not obey. She turned to face him, to see the face of he who dared to defy her even in silence, and saw instead a ghost. Roanne the Sentinel, the stallion she'd ordered her eldest to kill, stood tall and full of life. Then a flicker of blue, a faint glimmer she recognized as her son, before he was taken over again by the body of an unfamiliar draft coated in steel grey. As she opened her mouth to speak, his voice rose above hers. Knox was giving orders, as if he had the right. And worse, she saw from her decaying throne as Evers obeyed without hesitation. Wilder, ever the fool, rose before her and spread his wings, as if to demonstrate a threat. "Leave mother and our son alone!" she watched him cry, his voice quavering with the emotion she had hoped so dearly to have beaten out of him this late in his life. Still he resisted, he always resisted.

But didn't they all resist? She saw Kipp and Casimir in a new way now where they stood: they were poised to kill, biting at the bit and pawing at the earth, awaiting the greatest race of their lives. She tried to remember the last hunt her sons had performed for her, the last vicious sacrifice they'd made in her name. She saw Casimir's blinded eye, remembered his defiance. She saw the shadow of Tajheri rising behind them, venomous words dripping from his lips and scars to mark his rejection of her ways. Even his cursed name, Tajheri, stood a symbol against her.

When Archibald arrived she hoped for salvation. He was her greatest achievement, he would stop his foolish brothers in their tracks, force them to bow in her name and punish them each accordingly—especially Knox, the mutinous leader of their pack. Or... was there a leader? Each and every one seemed equally prepared to strike her down, even... even... no.

Archibald spoke in his deep cimmerian tones only of the child. There was no resistance in his golden eyes, no power other than that prepared to kill fueling his body. She watched, helpless, as like a machine her remaining sons lunged forward, dogs at their heels and murder on their minds. She watched as long as she could, until silver overtook her vision and she was left a blinded cat sprawled helplessly beside the heart.

Never before had she been so helpless, so close to death. Even in her earliest days, back when her father still breathed, passing his wretched grey genes on in every mare foolish enough to wander his way, beating them senseless, teaching Mandrake to slay and devour, she had felt protected. As vile as her father had been to so many others, as many boys as he had had before her, when he at last broke his mind and aimed for her back, she was strong enough to turn and strike him dead.

And then she had found every child of his. Tracked down every brother she'd never known, stretched across the land for miles and scattered in every different life she could imagine. The first by chance, the arabian pirate whose mother had fallen easily at her father's will, whose flesh had tasted bitter between her teeth. And then the blue boy, born years after she. She had remembered him as a child, horns barely buds along his neck. Then the powerful, black hulking monster of a stallion; too lively to be tamed, but just lustful enough to be bedded. From him she had taken his seed, and from his memory had been born two beautiful sons. And then the brother with the bare neck and the blanketed back, whose memory she reached for in earnest still.

And then, when the trail ran dry, when her brothers and nephews became her sons, she found herself hungry for more. It became impossible to keep the family as it was, became an insane thought to let so many suffer outside of her care. It became a quest for any faint reminder of those she'd known and any faint image of herself—the white child with the devil's horn a symbol of her failures, the bay dipped in white the fire that had fueled her strike against her father. The spotted child became what was left of her love; The sentinel's son was born to carry on his image and his own regret, to remind her of the shadow in her heart. This child of fire, to show her always a reflection of her past.

Through it all, she had been safe in her own way.

Now, she fell. Fell in blinded darkness, poison numbing her senses and slowing her motion. She heard Wilder cry as Tajheri's teeth formed a hold and threw him to the ground, felt his body land beside hers as his legs were crushed beneath his brother's force. The wing that fell, twisted and broken from his body, landed across her back—she felt it leaden as Archibald turned every hollow bone in his body to stone. She pulled herself closer to him, wedged herself beneath him, narrowly and by chance avoiding death at Archibald's hooves. As Archibald rammed her shoulder, he pushed her further beneath her eldest son and first brother, who cried in pain to the only mother he had ever known. The blow to her stomach came out of nowhere—blinded, she could only tell it was her youngest when he leaned down to tear at her and she felt the faint brush of his horn by chance. She felt herself seem to combust as her flesh was torn violently, as her once most docile child, her body of love, ripped her to ribbons.

Wilder was almost gone. She could tell by the heat leaving his body, by the ragged pattern of his breath. He drew closer to her, and she felt blindly for him until at last they rested together, faces nestled side by side.

"I love you, Mandrake. I have always loved you."

She was in too much pain to feign surprise. She wasn't aware what death was like, wasn't able to understand even that which she had impressed upon so many others. She shook with every motion, felt her breath forced out of her by ever kick and strike, felt Wilder's weight upon her heavier with every moment. It was all she could do to reach out with a killer's paw in a moment between the barrage; it was all she could to to place it gently upon Wilder's neck in a seemingly tender touch.

Perhaps he would have survived. Her eldest brother, her first-found son. Perhaps, as Casimir declared his loyalty and sped the world around them, his strike against Wilder would have not been fatal. Still, he did not live. In the split second before Kipp's hooves met her spine and Casimir's forced in her skull, ending her life, she tore open the thin flesh guarding Wilder's jugular and ceased his foolishly beating heart for the final time.

They lay together—black white and red, lit by the fire of the land. Sister and brother, mother and son, trickster and lover: silent at last.

Casimir Posts: N/A
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OCC Note: It's a gruesome post, read on if you dare. Probably not best for 13 year olds.

The night grew cold, and it was something that I rarely experienced. I moved along at a slow pace, darkness trailing on my heels as I made my way around the land, poised in form, and trying to make it back home before the moon rose. A stiff breeze blew and ran beside me, and I shivered a bit from the cold that arose. I was somewhere in the forest, the insects purring as the night grew, but soon they stopped. It was getting colder, and I did not know why. And suddenly, I walked through a patch of trees, the moon shining full and open above me, making the small clearing I arrived in a moonlit paradise. I stepped into it, not thinking about if I was exposed, only that there was light for me to lead, and that I could see where I was.

But something disturbing met my ears. I could hear commotion from a distance away, and I looked out, trying to find out where I was. It took me quite a while to find the right direction, having to look all around the circle to finally get the point where it was surly echoing. I could see fire, bright fire, and I knew I was by the Heart that breathed throughout Helovia. But my curiosity got the best of me, and I drove myself over there. There was a path that seemed to be lit of fire, and it guided me along my way. The sound grew as I stumbled closer, and a strange feeling came over me. I stopped, quietly listening to the voices. They sounded familiar, almost too much so, and the thoughts of my brethren being out here in the middle of the night were almost too coincidental.

And then I arrived, looking out as my brothers lay before him. I watched as Evers ran away…with a foal? Mandrake was lying on the ground, and I could tell she had just given birth, for she looked weakened and pathetic. But who was the father? But in a moment, none of that mattered, and questions stopped forming in his mind all together. I saw them move, move towards Mother with a fast paced fury, a bloody fury. But wait…I was down there. But…that wasn’t possible. Why was I down there when I was clearly standing on the ledge? This sprung my body into action, to see what this impostor was doing in my place. But what I saw stopped my hooves again, dead in my tracks, sinking into the ash that clouded the floor. They were after Mother, and myself and my brothers made their way to her, to end her long bloody life. I watched in utter horror as my mother was slain, and the split second of herself making her final and killing move on Wilder. I stood, silent as they fell to the Earth, blood splattered on the hot ground of the Heart. I stood for another moment, almost unable to breathe. My body started to shake, in patterns; shaking a little, then stopping for a moment, and then shaking harder. I could feel myself slipping, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

A scream echoed across the heart, and I didn’t realize I was the one screaming. I ran full force to where my brothers stood, no mind to think with. I wanted to kill, to kill them all. I when for myself first, and I could see in his own eyes that he was surprised to see a mirror version of himself. But I was the real Casimir, and he would know that before he died. I slowed down time, feeling the magic go through me, and he sped it up, but it was no good. He went straight for his jugular, tearing his out with all my might. Blood sank into my mouth, and spewed from his open veins as I closed my eyes. I could both feel and see the blood that covered my white coat. He lay dead before my hooves, and I licked my lips, the blood sliding down my throat. But I wanted more. I started to drink his blood, tearing his throat more, eating and drinking what was offered there. And then I used my fore hooves, sinking them into his head. His skull shattered, and his brain leaked out, and I laughed, my chest heaving with an insane crazy laughter. I turned on my brothers now, someone else entirely: only a killer. I moved toward them in a craze, moving by them as I make my way towards Mother and Wilder’s bodies. I only lash out, not trying to hit them, for they are much too sloppy and won’t do any damage.

Mother. Wilder. They lay dead on the ground, blooding seeping from their veins. A waste, in my mind, but I could utter no words. Instead, I open my maw wide and drink, drink from my brother’s body first, then the open wound his in own mother’s neck that my other half caused. Or was it a delusion, and I’m simply trying to say I didn’t do it? I look back at his body, and I know it was no myself that killed her, but I almost wish it were. I pound at the earth, stomping my hooves and sounding a war cry, something that has never echoed from my pale lips before. I dip my hoof in the poodle of blood, and make signs on my body. I continue the dance, and I eventually roll around in the blood. I make a final war cry, before things around me start to blur. I feel sick, very sick. I am suddenly on my knees, trying to cough up blood and flesh for the first time in my life. But nothing streams from my body, aching and trying to push it out, but nothing comes, and my stomach twists in pain. I am dizzy, and I roll around on the ground. I call my Kipp, for Emerson, even for Archibald. I try to stand up again, but I tumble over, falling on my side.

In my desperation, I call for my dead mother, and I start crying, and at that moment in time, I am unaware of why. My mother, who birthed me, who loved me, who blinded me, who turned me into a killer and made me do her bidding. My loving, hating, whore of a mother. Where was my mother?

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