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Post by calua on Oct 3, 2005 10:59:23 GMT -5
Tawny hyde of scars and pain emerged from a thick patch of foliage, her harks plastered amongst her cerebrum. She knew an undeserving bruthen would emerge and bring her along. Any moment now... Then p'haps she would rot here, though she had no care for what her life served her. Nothing was served on a silver platter, that she had learned when her dam's fate was sealed with a single bullet. Her not yet weaned, was intaken by a harem of darklings, and there she learned the ways of trade.
Many femmas had been force bred, and she knew her fate was to be the same. A mear sex toy. Though she had grown to accept the fact that when it was her time, it was her time. None were able to pry the fact away. And lights were taken on head-to-head. Nothing fased her anymore, especially battles and headstrong bruthens.
All she could hope for was a shelter and the ability to live life out as it was. Severed thoughts left her as she await any arrival. Her charcoal chains were toyed with by a crisp breeze, one that sent shivers up and down her spine, someone, or something was indeed coming. The scent was masked, and truly she could highly care less. If it were bruthen or wildlife was up to fate, and yet again, she could highly care less.
Her curse was Calua, purposely misspelled for the sake of her identity. By the end of her lifetime, all would know her as the deamonessa whom brought turmoil and power to any band she shall join. She was amazed at the twinge of spunk that arrived, but she would struive for it. Spunk and charisma was her main goal. It is what she would acheive, and it would bring her to the top!
All that truly mattered was her now. And her offspring woud carry on the legacy of Calua. The femma rose into a heightened rear, pedistals reaching out, as if she were to summon a caliph that matched the same goal, or atleast she could persuade to do so. Anything to release herself from this state of depression.
A chyme exited her plush. And she called for any nearby deamons, p'haps the one in the topography ahead.
Come brutes. Deliver yourselves to me. I am Calua, and the investment is guarenteed to bring our pack to the top! Come now, and surrendur your princaples. For I have many to overtake the measly ideas of yours. I am no tipical femma, and certainly you have thought that by now. Come, and attempt to bring me, for I shall only do good, in a shadowed sence, atleast...
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Post by Sashe on Oct 3, 2005 19:06:12 GMT -5
So. Was this the only matron? The stag peered out from between a barrier of withering foliage, its dried leaves cackling as the airstream slowly coursed through it, as if afraid if it blew too cruelly it would tear the very roots from the durable sod where it was housed. The desiccated coils which were most supposedly once a vibrant shade of emerald sprang from the ground with little gusto, their tattered blades a sign of sheer defeat. Barbaric titaniums stood firmly planted atop a small slope dotted with dissected remains of who-knows-what scattered about, firmly planted appendai unnatural and unmoving. He scrutinized the nymph from afar, for was she as dastardly as he? She appeared not to be, for was her true alliance to the darkness?
The bronc wasn’t truly sure either way, but it wouldn’t hurt to find out. Or, at least that’s what he’d thought when staking a claim upon Gavalim, throwing a quick glare to his cage where the wound was already manually sewing itself up, crimson crust drying itself round the gouge. Wincing a bit, he shook himself from the thought, pillars awakening from their slumber to move into a creeping four step, peds clopping o’er the rickety loam.
At about one hundred paces away from the minx, he paused, suspicious chasms narrowing as they glaring through fine tendrils. The nymph was a dauntless shade of lucid, no… not quite, it still seemed to qualify as perhaps a charred mahogany. The age shown obviously through her weathered features, she was much older than he. Perhaps too old, he mused. Could she survive throughout the threats that my land may bare upon her? Now somewhat tentative, another step devoured the loam beneath the lean chassis, keeping himself in check with a swift whap of the murky whipcord to his haunch. Yes, hesitance crept o’er his mind as he neared, serpentine unraveled forth from the marred diaphragm.
At last, motions ceased, churning columns brought to an abrupt stand still. Seeing as words usually got him no where, he was brief, labrums parting as probiscus was raised aloft. His tone was a creaking moan, dripping with mock deceit as he looked on. Throaty vocals died off, an amused hint to his façade. Occulis were unblinking, scarred plush thrust out resolutely. Labriums curled in a sudden jerk of agression, enamels grazign the hide of the foolish wench whom so cleaverly loured him here.
Greetings, nymph. I am Sashe, lord of Desque. Dare you belive I hold such welcomeing traits? So be it, for now that is. Move now wench, my claimance as marred your tender hide! Do not spt worthless words at my flints, for I am an open fosset, your words of which drain right through.
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Post by calua on Oct 7, 2005 9:25:23 GMT -5
I'm here, it's Pac, so you know I was gone for the funeral of my uncle, I will posteh now  |
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Post by calua on Oct 7, 2005 9:43:12 GMT -5
The femma was not one to go without a fight. The bruthen held nothing that would make her follow, none that he showed, atleast.
Pedistals were thrown out at him as she plaster her harks to the beginning of her curvature. Cerebrum bobbing rapidly she tore away from the bruthen, and swung with immense agility and liquidated grace. His words were harsh, and he seemed cunning, though that was it.
She preferred not judge him by the looks, she knew that he had as well. She wasn't even in her prime, the elements feasting upon her youthful covering, disinigrating them, and leaving nothing but muscle and bone. The vegetation was slim and sparse where she had traveled, and these gem crested blades slid down her larynx with ease and tasteful likings. But this caliph had rudely unterrupted her.
Enamels bared and snapped at him as a rusted and forced chorus left her, harshly entering his honers.
I'm sorry, but is that any way to treat a deamonessa as myself. I see you have judged my incorrectly, so I suggest you contemplate your misthoughts. If not, you are truly not wise enough to behold me within your terrain. I warn you, nobody owns me, stag.
Disgusted she was, but she decided to see where this went, obviously this bruthen was all physical, no mentally strong traits. He was the steryotype of many, what would posibly make her attracted to him? Ah well, maybe he would show something worthy of him staying around? Or should she berid him immediatly?
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Post by calua on Oct 7, 2005 9:43:30 GMT -5
sorry so short
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Post by black on Oct 10, 2005 17:37:08 GMT -5
[glow=teal,11,1200]The King of Hades lurked within the battallion gorge. Pestistals of slender, frame of brass, pelt of hate. Liquids overlooked the pretty bronc to the eclipse beauty that bestowed before him. Tho his heart did not beat, he could tell she was testing the crune that stood on prowl. Knowing the opposser held not a slim whit chance with such an outgoing indapendant minx, he thought he may try his luck, cast a trance apoun the banche.
Boa curved nobaley, his mass of bulk and onyx hue. Mimicking that of the twighlight, he stowed away in the grave emptiness that had created this wounder. The hellion glared stilly as the opposer shed his light like prevoke, and the flicka hold hr own. Moments fled by as still he amused. After assing minutes, the wench shed her mornful cry of misery and dred. To his harks, it showed that of true class in the hades way, fit for a hell godess indeed.
Leaves ruffled in the grulling winds of the seasons, his Mane aflow as dark flames of death. the breath from that of the minx and brute caressed the ever falling darkness. Sunkissed Harridan Looked rather combative against the swarthy patron. Visage flew welkin as the foliage glided in the brittle winds. Watches watched intentley, awaiting the right moment to step in, or when the hussy sinced his combative presince.[/glow]
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Post by Sashe on Oct 10, 2005 20:09:58 GMT -5
gah ill reply later, not very awake lmao
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Post by black on Oct 11, 2005 14:19:06 GMT -5
ooc: way way too short, museless i guess. lolz
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Post by Sashe on Oct 11, 2005 20:03:24 GMT -5
A smirk curled upon his mug, an entertaining one she was. Perhapse this rancid banche will give his queen a run for her money...or worse. Mabey a fight shall be held for lead, he shant be accosiated with a petty pregnant mutt as a queen. The wench had once held his attention, but now her stance enraged him so. The wench had attempted to see benith the iron shell of what he sported, hah she would find nothing.
Secrets held benith, optics held no tale. None shall learn of such, hah such blunt residents would miss a stuble hint. Cords collided with the loam, labriums curling in pure amusement. So the little nymph wishes to show her agression? Such a divine infestation The rancid thoughts sifted through his ebonite scull.
Nares of decay flared, optics blareing a hedious shade of the damn. The scent of another tunneld through the coarse vessels, the scent of a pathetic mongrel. Towers twisted behind, catching the very sounds teh bastard released. Hah! Hideing in the shades, what a pathetic choice of display. Asif the brute belived that would earn him the company of such a banche.
Trapts clenched with rage, braces dipped in nocture sifting smoothly. Asif he were placed atop a liquid of some sort, yet danced on flames he showed no abrupt movement. Dial thrashed in annoyment, such an interruption would not be taken lightly. The mood of the bastard had quickly shifted, focus turning to the unwanted.
Bastard whom wisahed to remain unseen show your pathetic hide now. An annoyance you are, for you shant win such nymphs with your choice of concealence. Hah, im sure you will flee at the sight of brawl. Your mind fleeing with the neutrals, or perhapse the light.
Facet set in stone remained unchanged, the glare of embers residing. Braces locked in place, serpintine withdrawing to a high tuck. Nares flared once more, a glance stolen form the imp. A low metalic rumble surfaced, the tone directed to she. Stuble whispers sounded, the rasping sound exiting the raw larnix he held.
Wench I find your ways intertaining, perhapse even bringing me to belive a dual may be placed on your behave for lead, if the place of co sends distaste. However such suitings do not bring much thought to I, a title is a meir etch in stone. So easly ereased, and replaced with new.
A smirk once again curled upon his rancid facets, tarp lacking of hue rippeling as he stood in silence once more. The oposing bastard held no chance, only a stain on the loam at this time.
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Post by calua on Oct 13, 2005 8:20:48 GMT -5
I am here, but I will post now. I warn you I will not be on until Saturday, I am sneaking on now ;D
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Post by calua on Oct 13, 2005 8:26:54 GMT -5
She glanced at the shadow that had arrived with an unwelcoming glance, seeing the lowly bastards had shifted their attention from her, she set off and began to allow the savory gem-crested blades flow down her larynx once again.
The lusterous hyde of the dark figure concealed in darkness intreigued her so, but she dare not show interes in either until they prove themselves worthy. The thought of having to join a deamon sickened her to the chilling marrow of her bones. All that was left was her, she seemed the only mature one here.
A creek babbled and she snorted in distase for the clear liquid, but decided to quench her thirst, unknowing when she would next get a chance. Glancing to the minisc
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Post by black on Oct 13, 2005 18:00:17 GMT -5
The patron Shuttled off the Baron's "big guns" attitude, it was just another show as all others. Musculine Snorted, flee at the siht of battle? this bronco should just flee and fear at the sight of I! Frame Of Block structure rippled beneathe the shadowy darkness that bestowed his inerds. Slim but bulky, fully muscled, but he was not flabby as thy bastard the offend thee. hrmm, Yes, battles Helped him grow stronger, to become even more prepaired for the battles set forth in the future for terrains of hell dip, Minxes and so on. Even if lots, he would madly attempt for this banche. She may 'think' I have no worthiness, but ah, how wrong she be.
The gilded Seraph seemed as though he was glazing the other froud, yet his gaze never left her sculptings. Eyeing her over, he saw what impressed him most, she had war scars laserated about her in pathches, meaning she had fought great deals, she had courage. Visage Tossed skyward towards his main enemies as he stood silently, his presence leaving barely and essence of his very being. Pedistols slow engaged him forth along the typo in grate stalks. Stroding forth in a champione mannor, he stood before the pathetic nothing that questioned him so. ha! this gladiator was nothing but a pipskweek in comparison.
Tympanums plasterd to the savage head as he fled forth in a bounding leap into the heavens. A Powerful, Acrimonious Rath Sycthed the silcent night. Ebon mass landed once atop the geo again and a greeting barcaded forth the Lappets of the sun-kissed Xanthippe. Tressles of death lay smoothly ore' his Curvature. Lanterns beseachingly held a slight flicker, but it was merly one summond up to greet the bytch, but hense done, thy blew out and once again, became an endless pit of darkness. Cerebrum pulsed in wonderation. Zephyrs Bellowed out a toone of impatcientce as he awaited the nymph's reply in greeting.
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Post by calua on Oct 17, 2005 18:33:01 GMT -5
She glanced harshly at the worthless bastards. Truthfully she wanted no lover, no family, she wanted no responcibility. At a ripe age of hers, there were no reasons to want so. Perhaps she possibly could deal with a single bruthen, a small burden compared to a harem. Though she had never had those experiences entered her membrane. Her sinister dam lofting her tail to any beast passing.
She snorted harshly, forgetting the brute was nearby. A gruff vocal was sent to him, tastless and absent of emotion. There were no emotions in her, for now atleast. She denied any brute could unlock the feelings caged within. The monstorous beast inside engaging battle with the barrier it held.
Her charred, knotted chains wrapped about her rear coasters, her tresses lofted this way and that. Her raw-hyde pelt shimmering faintly. Almost abscent of any luster. She forgot of her heavenly coloring, for her inners were truly stained to a midnight coverage.
Her paitence shortened and she wanted a responce now, she hadn't heard from the hotshot in some time, and it irritated her so...
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Post by Sashe on Oct 17, 2005 18:49:45 GMT -5
The stag stood cloaked in shadow, glance shifting to and fro from the two residence whom amounted to nothing. He was not one to cast games upon, intrest slowly deteriorating. He had soon begun to waver his attention, to greater causes. A beating may lay across his alpha for her absence has annoyed him so, the thought of the banche quickly slipping to the opposite side of likes. This foolish wench also seemed as the type of petty quarrl, yet she held slightly enticing traits.
Labriums curled as he lurched foward, heaving mass set in ripples as the motions continued. Titaniums thudded to the loam in a slow rythmic pattern, dial bobbing with each stretch of pillar. The opposer held not one intimidatign trait, hah the chanc eof brawl would give him such pleasure. The scent of fresh rouge had been missed by the rogue character. Cords snapped behind the form dipped in nocture, the presence drawing foward to the banch as the call was made to the other bastard.
Wench make your fucking choice, the wait has brougth annoyance to not only I. A likely beating has been postponed, perahpse this bastard by join the act, hah but he shant lay one rancid part upon my kin. The thrash shall only consist of one dispercent. So make it now, the doddel has reached its end.
The rasps surfaced as a taught circle was drawn around the femm of his intrests, who will follow him home weather she had chosen or not. He would shed blood for the presence of the wench, however she would return the favor once they arrived. It was in her court, the choice of how the crown shall react was in her posesion.
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Post by calua on Oct 18, 2005 18:31:26 GMT -5
She sneered at the vocal from the bruthen, truly he did seem the whittier and darker one, but the other was more gullable and without a queen. Truly it would be a wiser choice.
She glare past him, as if he weren't there. She contemplated everything slowly in attempt to annoy the bruthen greatly. She was still famished and shuddered from the frigid wind that entered the very rouge of her body.
A responce formed in her, spontanious thoughts slurred into a great thought and she finally came out with it.
If you expect me to do so, I suggest you think diffenently. I fear you not, bastard. I will take my precious time to make a decision, unless you can proove yourself worthy of me. Same to you, black one. Proove yourselves more worthy, give me more perks, or leave me be.
The decision was theirs, though she wanted nothing more to be lone, perhaps have one foal to raise and carry on her legacy. Such talk of the darker bruthens queen greatly irritated her and her attraction shrunk. The orb grew fainter, her barely lusterous hyde lost any primp to it.
Hawks went into hybernation, the owl's starting their evening mouse rangling. She sighed and wished she could fly away, and curse the two whom intruded on her luxurious meal. She glared at the black one as she muttered.
I'm Calua, what are your screamings? Tell me now or don't tell me at all, my patience is limited so I suggest you make haste. Tell me what you have to offer as well, beasts...
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