Decaying Flesh

[Masquerade]

Standing tall, against the sunset, I watched as my surroundings grew quiter with the passing hours. A flock of Grouse came up from the tall strands of weed, sensing that they would or could be in danger. Perhaps it was I who scared the small birds from there hiding.

Carrion stood there debating weather he would play a little game of tag with the silly little birds. With one step his gigantic hoof, he could crush there inocent bodies to dust. Yes, cruel as it may be, there had been an over population of small birds in this area for awhile now, so why not make a game of hunting?
As Carrion thought of this, one of the smaller Grouse flutterd by him. The brute smirked, this was his chance. Come here lil' one, I have a secret to tell you. Don't worry... I won't bite.... much. The bird tilted its head to the side and took caution as it went by the tall figure above him.
Boo! The Grouse jumped back and began to flap its wings, but it wasnt quick enough. With a giant swipe of the stallions mighty hoof, the Grouse wqas finished. Carrion only lunged forward a stride to catch the thing that was now a heap of feathers. He kicked it aside, a snack for later if you may, for the hungry carnivores of Riven.
This place was full of dead weeds and brush. It was dry and cracked from little, to no rainfall. Who would ever come here? Carrion let out loud whinny, perhaps someone interesting was nearby that he could converse with.

As I waited for a reply, my pelt rippeld with irratation. thingying my head to a side, I noticed it was a fly that had made its way onto my back. I swished my tail from side to side. Swaying like a pendulm.

[moose]

A grimace overtook her otherworldly features, red eyes burning like embers into the night. The clouds unfurled before her as she flew through them, twisting sideways as she showed her skill of flight, how she had honed aero-dynamics until she had mastered them. Her mind was cleared of all thoughts, lazy movements becoming more evident as she ascended on the land. Pure evil in the wake of a dark, near-stormy night. Most ran at the sight of such a beast Nib was well known in these parts. Nib pulled back her lips, letting a screech rip violently from her as a falcon darted past, catching her by surprise. Shaking herself violently in order to rid her body of the shock, Nib allowed herself to land, her leathery wings folding across her back lightly.

Flicking her ears, Nib took in the smell of rotting flesh and relished it. The wolves ate tonight, or had ate would be the correct term. She prided herself on being good with words, her father always ranting about being well spoken and things of that nature. He was as intolerant as any stallion, though Nib knew this to be only the god's fault. It wasn't his fault he had been Bourne a stallion and not a mare. Reaching her head down, she allowed herself to take a moment to scratch at her cheek, which had been subject to an annoying fly, which in turn had left her cheek stinging and itching with a vengeance. That was what she loved about flying; it left her free form worldly matters. It was only her and the other creatures of the sky.

Nib started walking again, watching the scenery with little interest. She was a mare of many talents and was quite astute; able to point things out before others simply because she always made a sweeping check as she walked along in new places, making sure she knew the outlay of the land and how it would be easiest to escape should the problem call for her escape. Mistrusting though she was, Nib knew at times she had no choice but to take chances, so she had taken to making sure those chances were on the smallest side of gambling as possible. She was not out to lose her life; she was out to destroy the Hornisse.

She found herself among the canyons, head turning lightly as she walked like the queen she was. She looked mainly with for her loyal subjects, conspiring with them about how the Hornisse would soon be no more. Oh, how Nib loved speaking to those of the same mind as herself, taking the in the information they had and relishing the wins they spoke of with such passion, cursing at the spoken defeat. She turned, blinking as she thougth she recognized the stallion before her. Carrion? Yes...that is his name I believe. She thought, tilting her head to the side as she contemplated the situation. She walked up to the stallion, wings flapping before they folded at her back and merely said, Good greetings, Carrion. as was the custon. Good Greetings was a greeting used to say to another Equine that they came in peace and that they were friendly with that Equine. She meant it in both ways.

CURRENT STATUS :: {un/Finished}
WORD COUNT :: Unknown

[Masquerade]

He calls the mansion not a house, but a tomb.
He's always choking from the stench and the fume.

Carrion noticed the winged vixen before him. Ah yes, he knew who she was. Why my Queen, Hello. Brute stepped forward, in a confident manner. May I trust your day was good? In this moment, there wasn't much an equine like Carrion could say, to make the conversation less akward for him. It wasn't a usuall happening to find the Queen standing there-striking up words with himself.

Around the two beings, the air grew cooler, more stale. The scent of carnivors aproaching closer. It must have been that foul Carrion had slaughterd just a few minutes ago-attracting the hungry creatures. If anything should happen to him or Nib. The predators would soon become the prey.

Sensing that there was a lack of interest in Carrions own tone of voice, he non-chalently changed the subject. So... what brings you here? As he voiced this, a slight gust of wind picked up, carrying a hurricane of dried leaves and brush around the canyon. Dead trees creeked as there branches swayed, hitting one another. Somewheres out in the distance a raven cawed. Beckoning to its partner. Carrion ducked his head to the ground, and snuffed through the dust, tracing any smell of life. Nothing. Figures.

The stallion picked his head up and let out a long huff of breath. His nares flaring out then in again. Carrion shook his mane and stomped a back hoof. He was growing impatiant with the sudden intruders. Where were they? And what were they? Come one, just a little closer.... The shire mumbled.

The wedding party all collapsed in the room.
So send my resignation to the bride and the groom.

((Sorry the post is kind of lame, but I dont have alot of muse so I tryed winging it and threw in some unwanted guests.. that okay? =p ))

[moose]

Sounds of hoof beats filled the once dead land, the stench of decaying flesh and the sounds of erratic vultures filling the air with a delicious sense of revenge, as if death's grip had descended upon the Hornisse once and for all. Nib knew, though, that such a victory could not be achieved through feelings and hope; one must be violent and one must attack with much vigor; you had to be the picture of valor whilst cutting your enemies jugular and sipping at their scarlet blood. She could only envision such a victory, though the ebony queen thought through her plans and strategies. She had never doubted herself as a strategist. Up until now.

She raised herself tall, looking at the stallion with as much interest as she would an insect, though her followers knew that this was to be expected of her. She could show no favor to one horse nor the other, instead she must act with indifference and dignity, be able to apply punishment to whoever may deserve it without second guessing anything she may do. Nib distanced herself from even her closest advisor's, who, in reality, were not that very close to her at all. She's just as soon kill off Vampira as she would any other horse who crossed her or rubbed her the wrong way, so to speak. Nib knew the difference between queenly arrogance and discipline. She exercised both with vigor.

She allowed herself few pleasantries in life, though the one thing she did allow herself to partake of was the torturing and questioning of Hornisse servants, the scum. They seemed to think just because they were the messengers, that they were untouchable. That Nib was above interrogating them about their homelands. Some were not ready for this treatment, because of the fact, as mentioned before, they thought they were untouchable. Others knew this mission to be their last and were ready to die for their precious "Homeland", and were so defiant in their every word and movement. Nib had the best time breaking in those types; oh how she enjoyed and relished it.

She moved forward with a smooth eloquence, mixed somewhere along the lines with the movements that of a heroin going off to battle. She always kept her head held high in both dignity and defiance to those around her, her ears perked forward and eyes set on her goal. There would be no questioning where the mare may be headed, and she was a swift and steady vessel. She would always grasp her prey. Oh, and how delicious. What do we have here. A couple of spies, no doubt? Hmm..isn't this just wonderful, Carrion. I do think it may be time for you to prove yourself to both your lands and your queen. She said in cherry voice that was but a cruel facade.

A colt, a yearling, stood in the tall grass. He was obviously of Hornisse descent, carrying the distinct body type that the Hornisse did, and looking quite far from home. Both she and Carrion were near to the border that separated the no-man's land and Greifer territories. Nib was not at all pleased with the discovery, and had warned all Hornisse that any and all horses would be slaughtered should they even come close to the border. There would be no age discrimination. The younger they killed them, the better. That meant they wouldn't grow older to kill off more Greifer equines. It also made the parents morals descend. To the grieving parents, what was the point of fighting a war when your children paid the price?

Her leathery wings flapped lightly as she chuckled, a low menacing sound. The foal shook lightly, fear flashing in his chocolate eyes. His coat was a pure hazel color, his face masked in ivory. He backed lightly, though Nib motioned Carrion forward, obviously growing impatient. Now was the time when he would prove weather or not he could kill for his queen on request. If not, Nib would fail to respect him or notice him as one of her own. If he was so weak that he could not kill off the future generations, those who could grow older only to kill his own foals, then what use was he to her? She flashed a smile at him that promised, ensured, he would not go unrewarded for his deed.

[Masquerade]

Not wanting to displease the equine of higher status, Carrion pinned his ears back a bit, warning the two young 'uns that they were in hot water. Besides, the brute was always up for a bit of kill and defeat. Decaying brute stepped quickly into action upon his enemy.

Tresspassers have always seemed to be getting younger and younger. Were these two Hornisses dumb enough to enter Griefers territory? Apparently so, for the colts had not moved an inch, they were too struck by fear that they had frozen in place. Un sure of what to do, they raised there heads and tails and began to move forward with a quick paced trot.

Look at you two. Just who do you think you are. Do you think your being brave by waltzing into Griefer land?

Carrion began to mock the colts bravery. Brave! Hah! more like stupidity! Those two were heading straight for there death.

Blah//unfinished