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Post by positive on Oct 29, 2005 22:52:24 GMT -5
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Kemor...you spelt Peaks wrong...
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Winter's snow fury blazed crossed the land, snow drifts covered the trees as thick as the foliage that they bare in Spring. The cold winters months sent bears into warm caves, rodents into burrows or trees. Yet others stayed awake, outside, in the fight for their lives. Wolves, coyotes, lions, those are only some of the creatures that stalk herbivores during winter. Animals such as Equines, cattle, deer, roam the areas. This is the time of hiding and famine. Food runs short , but some find it. Others parish. As for this one, she will live on. Winter is her favorite time of the year. The white, bleakness of the land, the utter plainness of it, lacking in extravagant colors. It draws attention to the place. High upon the mountain, a sole vixen attempts the untried. To greet the Immortals. To be impressed upon by them, or to be shamed.
The bay bitch climbed the peak with steady footfalls, her talons dug at the ground, well worn daggers fought for a firm hold. The vixen muttered to herself, she knew she should have come in Summer, but this winter didn't seem as bad as others she had lived through. Her condensation glimmered, snow clung to her tightly fluffed pelt. Her brown Geo colored bodice turned white as snowflakes settled upon it. She still moved on wards. Her heart set on one thing. to meet the Immortals. She had heard of them, now she was going to find out if what was said about them was true. Were they equal to the Gods? Her thoughts turned outward again as she slipped, this was a test of her skill. Her breath visible to her chocolate hues. She muttered to herself,
I must find the answers.
She paused, but had to keep moving, to stop was to die. her black soul burned harshly. She had no intention to let this mountain kill her. She welcomed death, but she fought for her life. The elements against her. Still she struggled, her skill showed. She headed sideways up the mountainous slope. Her black ebonite tresses hung from her neck like icicles. Her maw parted, her paper's expanded, her lungs tried to catch air on the high slopes, where the air thinned. She struggled, she would not die here! Her snort echoed slightly. Snow still fell, but the intensity caked off, as if sensing her reserved strength, which she called upon to attempt this unimaginable task. Her tail hung down, a curtain of ebon, woven through with white thread. Her eyelashes frozen, her head dropped, she rubbed it along her leg, clearing the icicles. Her call rang out. She felt the slop stretch down wards. her hinds tucked, her fronts slipped as she swayed. The thin air made her light-headed. She snorted and swayed drastically. Her body screamed against the strain. She right herself, tilting too far to port. She shifted her weight to the starboard side, her hull groaned, joints freezing. but she held. Against the onslaught of the winter, she held firm. Ori knew she would have too. But would this deem her worthy to be graced by the Immortals? she only shook ,her warm pelt not so warm anymore.
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Post by Sequin on Oct 29, 2005 22:54:38 GMT -5
ooc: LMAO! i fixed....geez.
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Post by positive on Oct 29, 2005 22:55:44 GMT -5
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-grins- I spell gud! -rolls on floor laughing- It IS winter...right?
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Post by Sequin on Oct 29, 2005 23:03:41 GMT -5
Twist and twine
Nares set in decay of nocture flared against the horrid winds, the chilling breeze a comfort to the flesh fo he. The eternal burn subsiding for only moments at a time. Dial thrashed due to the sensation he so utterly held in amusement. Braces churned, the wake spread unwavering and silent. Life, such a delicate matter. One whom is dead nor alive had caught the scent of the cycling carbon exhailed from the living, one of so very near. Upon his relms infact, such a pitty, for now the creature shall perhapse learn rules are not ment to be broken, just as ligaments of the living. Decay trailed behind the tred of the montrosity lurking in the lifeless dome, nares flaring once more in rage. The warmth of rouge sent his spine a tingle, tiny hairs along the spine standing asif they were needels upon the pelt of a forest dwelling mammal. Matted cords dragged against the loam yet held no sound, silence masking the following motions. Only perhapse the one whom he holds close may have picked up the minuet russels, oh but not the one of flurish. Gouges upon the dial for the purpose of sight held a stance of bore, no tale to be told. Dence shadow linned the vessel he spread wake upon, thick braces churning in a rythmatic pattern. Asif he danced upon the flames of hell he marched on, a warrior emerging to make brawl. A low yet metalic shrill of rage shredded through the waves of silence, the brute was here, the one casting rule upon the relm of the undecided. Empire thrusted into a bob, the thrashing continuing only breifly as he exited the thick glum he once lurked. Crossing to the light, the charred flesh of Kemor rippeled due to the change of scenary. Smog of the damned circled the braces proppelling the brute foward, labriums curling as the massive form lurched on. Rouge ooze dripped from the tightend crease at the maw, the ribbon morphining into one drop as it met the loam, instantly suckeld by the geo. Muscels of the chest region flexed, the cold glare pinning to the creature who dared enter the lands of which he did not belong. Such a peer of anger searched the horrid dog asif it were a book, reading every detail. A meek wench so it be? Thorns clasped the dome of he menacingly.
So you have dared venture into theese lands baring not one item of life, no substance to make your weak clock tick? I only wish to hold hope for you, however such a feeling I lack. Questions questions, such an infanint subject. But I am one whom may bear a solution.The sharp hisses were feral, hedious to the auds. Ruch rancid sputters he managed to excert, cold and lifeless. Iron barbes clacked togeather, jawls tightening as he judded foward with such liquid movements one may belive they were preformed atop cool azure. The brute pulled foward beside the barrel, optics suddely rolling behind, white exchanging roles with the nocture. A last scream of defyence set a shudder through the vinals of only decoration to the lands, the mass of ebon seeming as a waterfall shaded in coal. Dial thrashed, toned curvature looming above. Tresses dribbeld in thick ribbonds down the slick slope of pelt, cords raging war with the hind stones. Knifes held by the fore appendeges dipped to a point, as an arrow shall be pointed to the bullseye the brute shot for the week shoulder. The mass shifted back over the loam holding not one peice of flesh, the puncture not to contact the mortal one. Such a blow my indeed by fatal, but not to all. Serpintine extender downwards, the hushed wish to grasp the falling flesh crept foward. Enamels clashed, diving for the figure. Snaps only grasped the swirling breeze, the wench had better make her point quickly. None shall be given the touch of an angel in this meeting, for one shall very well may leave with broken bones...if that. |
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Post by positive on Oct 29, 2005 23:36:22 GMT -5
Ori lifted her cold head, her thoughts swirled around her as the snow did. She snorted, her hide shivering. She was sluggish, slow. Her paper's caught no scent. But her harks heard it all. The sound of the stallion. She snorted, her pols widened. Her stiff limbs unready. She lifted her head slowly, her body screamed, she looked at him,
Who are you?!
She snorted, he had nothing to him, his eyes, emotionless. He cast no shadow, nor scent. It was as if he wasn't truly there! Her whipcords hung loosely. Her brain registered him move. But her commands were slow. She screamed, her red blood fell hot upon the snow as the ivories cut her. Her head flung out, oculars blinked, rosette blood flowed from her shoulder, her foreleg felt stiff, the biting wind took it's tole upon her body. She winced, her serpentine twisted toward the stallion, no behind her. She snorted, her rage flared. Though not as strong as any stallions, she would try.
Torn tendons screamed as she turned her body, her cold glare washed over his turned back. she snorted, her call still rang on the air. Snow drifted into her incision, her blood ran cold, streaming off her shoulder such as a small waterfall. She winced, but ignored the pain of it. Her orbs watched him, ready for his next move. She knew she could very well die. She was ready for death. But she knew she had been one of the first mortal Equids to obtain the Immortals attention. She spoke slowly, her vocals cracked with cold,
I bare no gift, i have no need of any gift. You ask for a gift, you have drawn it. Look up the snow Immortal One, you shall see the price of mortality, my gift. But that doesn't matter. I came here to see if it was true. That the Immortals were true. You must be one, you have no scent, no soul...If that is true. Than I have found them...
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0.0 I don't know waht that means....0.0 It sounds dramatic however...
Opps...I miss the part where he missed...
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Post by Sequin on Oct 30, 2005 14:01:31 GMT -5
Twist and twine The bronco stood engrossed in the wench’s salutation of fear. Amused he was, the self-proclaimed raven appearing as a scared cat. A feline laced of nocture prowling upon the fence line, a feral hiss sounding at the sight of a canine foe. A horrid smirk played against the ebon mug of the king, ruler set before the wench. He was so easily amused, yet so Easley cast into boredom. Boredom would only be replaced by bloodshed, hah but such secretion shant emerge from his tender vessels but form the one bringing the show to a halt. Cords draped across the loam he cast rule over, the tresses appearing as am ebon stained train attached to a wedding dress, yet the dress was matted and torn.
Come dance in the shadow
Your days mending with mine
However yours shall end much briefer, for mine is eternal
Watch your step dear femm, for your days wither away
Withering away to the nocture ebise
The world shant mourn your passage
For the ones whom mourn shall follow right behind
Visage twisted into a horrid smirk, a smirk of sheer defiance. As if he could watch every thought rummaging through the wenches tiny dial, he stood in silence. The frozen blanche sputtered such unruly questions, would he decide to reply to such absurd questions? King his placement was, but to whom did this she lies with? Her arrival made brief in the lands of claim that he knew, however he grows bored watching the meek ones, he cared not of their being. Perhaps he shall pay visits to the horrid relms of the dark herds, pathetic they shall become. Collapsing to their knees they shall, fear forcing the marrow lining the bones to run cold as his heart, lifeless. Trapts clenched only slight, the venomous words dangling from the poison riddled coral of he.
You shall bow to me as king, immortal that I am. Such blunt questions you disperse, have you not realized the lands you dare enter? No soul you think I lack. How cleaver…I wish for no gift blanch. Spit your dubbance now, your meek being just may be spared. Be oh so cleaver my sweet
For your time runs thin
Thin as the blood circulating benith your tarp
Thin as the tarp I just may marre
Choose your words wisely, for such thin tiding you shall recive Your days with mine [/center] |
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Post by positive on Oct 30, 2005 14:13:42 GMT -5
The bay wench stood still, the snow around her. She snorted and stood her ground, she wouldn't back down now. she may be mortal. But she would be remembered as a brave bytch. She stared back at him, her heart fluttered slighlty in fear of the dead stallion, no, not dead. Immortal. she snorted and lifted her head up slighlty. Her blood frozen on her shoulder. She looked at him and spoke, her tones as dead as his, though blood still coursed through her veins.
Stallion of teh Immortals. I came here on a small task. I have finnished it. I won't be alive longer than 10 years, I know this. but I would choose a mortal life, than spend all of my 'living' life being bored. to pass on, to be reborn upon the world. I know freedom. But I'll tell you my name, you may remember it for years to come. It be Ori.
The bay wench lowered her kissers to her breast. She snroted in thought and then lifted, her bow to him. She would never bow to another. She was ready to go back, her skin shivered, her legs freezing. She looked back at him, her tiara nodded slighlty,
first Amoung the Immortals, know this. I go. you may stop me, I didn't expect to live off this mountain anyway, this palce is of Hell, a frozen hell. i look forwards to the warm of the black fires of Hell. f you wish, cast me there. I have nothing left to do here.
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Post by Sequin on Oct 31, 2005 12:07:29 GMT -5
The form of the basterd began to melt away with the shadow, intrest faltering in the wench. The scent of another in the lands of elements had drawn his attention, rage tipping his emotions. The lands of element were created for his young, his yougn only. The creature residing there was neither, and neither he shall learn! A horrid scream sounded form the dence shadow as the las tof his bod was submerged in the black.
Be on your way now bytch, for my presence is drawn elsewere
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Post by positive on Oct 31, 2005 22:36:14 GMT -5
Her tiara bowed, something else distracted the stallion. She turned away from him, her pools slitted. Her frozen stils moved slowly. she snorted and her vapors were a cloud upon the frozen air. She coughed, her frozen blood upon her shoulder, drapping down off it with elegance. Her harks twisted, nearly frozon. She was going to get off this mountain.
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Sorry Kemor..No muse...Happy Halloween!
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aaa11
Regular Member
Posts: 241
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Post by aaa11 on Aug 14, 2008 22:25:25 GMT -5
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