Genesis [Rama// Nebeast]

[Snowflake Smoky]

NEBEAST

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He came from the south, through the trees, not at all bothered by the dark or the beasts that might dwell in it. A little carrion-fond fox followed him, the white tip of the tail flicking beside his hooves when he stopped to rest. The little thing had no name, and she only dared come this close when he was tired. They existed in the state of pact between those who are desperate and unsettled deep within their body. He had never lashed out at the little thing, making it part of a small select bunch. He had often wondered if this was the closest that he would ever receive to the odd ghostly creatures that some could summon upon will. He had no control over the thing, and it made the choice to stay or go as it pleased. He had come seeking the owner of this land, a creature that was said to be near soulless, as dark in heart as the very night of a full moon, and more importantly, conspiring to start a rebellion against the other herds. The white brute was curious to meet this other creature, and had more than once considered the potential of entering into the service. Power-hungry as he was though, he would not be content to be the pawn for control. He wanted to be the black hand, the one who went out in the dead of night and spied on the opposition, the one who was right-hand if not better. Demanding though the conditions might be, this creature was content he could prove himself worthy of the positions he desired. He was like a ghost, moving through the forest, white against its darkness. As he reached the edge of it, the end of a journey, he had to break through a wall of fog that coated his sides in moisture and made his little companion pin her large ears in distaste. Her little red form was striking against the dark, but he didn't expect to be primly aware of the coming of the figure. There would be cunning in the form, not a simplistic-minded stupidity. The white one fully expected to be tested.

He also wondered by what name he would go to this beast, whether it was worth using the title he'd be christened with, or attempting something new. He saved the similar Nahale for situations in which he wanted to be less than wicked, and for that it would not do. That was a side that the one he was here to see should not. His original name though was not one that was well recognized, and not one he was sure he wanted recognized. He could always shorten it to something with a little more venom in it, such as Nehe, though he supposed that such a thing could be considered a laughing point. The full thing then would have to do, and he would earn respect under it. Nahele was not such a name to lack power, but it had yet to inspire awe or fear in the world, and as such it was a nice bit of mask to hide behind. Then again, if he was taking up with the best known villain in these parts it was likely he would not have a mask for long. On the topic of names, the creature he was here to meet held a tricky point. He knew not the name of this other, and as such it would be an awkward greeting. For the moment, he could only hope that this other would announce himself with his name so that there would be no attempts to transifugre a title from thin air. Though, the white one mused, it might be another way in which he would be tested.

The white one would need a fair bit of education too, as removed as his seclusion had put him. He knew of the four alphas and their struggles, but he knew not the names of any of them or who each conspired against. He had gained the land, though not the name, out of a frightened little sheep in the South, where he had resided unnamed and unaligned. By coming here, he was no traitor. He had never announced himself to the leader of the south, never bothered to find out who the place he resided in belonged to. As disinterested as he was in mares, if he gained the favour of the leader here, it might be nice to start some sort of herd here, a small establishment, in which he could keep anything he captured a a side effect of the battles he expected to engage in. He would be selective about that as well, what he kept and what he traded on in search of something that was more to his liking. He didn't expect to find any mare that would warm his heart, nor did he have any desire to sire any of his line, but it might be nice to develop some little black-hands of his own. Not that he was at all disloyal, or in search to overthrow this powerhouse that was starting a war, more that he wanted to be certain of his position through the land. It would be nice to remove the illusion of a perfect world from some faces as well, let them experience the way things truly were. Yes, it might be nice to head a batch of cunning young creatures seeking to make their own way. Nahele's School for the Disillusioned. What a ridiculous idea. There would be time for foolishness later. For the moment, there were problems to be dwelled upon, such as gaining such favor. As no one had emerged from the fog to greet him, he opened his mouth and let a call ring over the grey. In it he intoned a lack of intent for challenge, but a desire to see the lead anyway. Let the bartering and testing, and battles of will begin.

Word Count: 1002
Tags: Rama // Appy
Notes: Gothique style writing is fun.

[aPPY]

The alabaster body moved with a defined grace that was sharp and royal. Legs snapped forward, not in the high-stepping and exhaustin way that some equines preferred to move in; but in the low, long strides that stretched and pulled the muscles and in the end, accomplished much more than the more flashy way of moving. Head heald high and proud, as only a Lord should do so, for to carry it low to the ground was not proper. Audits twisted, listening to the sounds of the forest as the were undisterbued by his patrolling; the noiseless wounds he made blending into the non-sounds of the still trees and nonexistent animals that not-lingered. He dipped his head sharply, mane shifting and flying with a bouncing motion that matched his footfalls, neck arching and stretching as his vertebrae shifted and realigned themselves. He had spent most of his time in the outer most east regions, and some in the section that bordered the west; though there seemed to be must activity in the north and he had been watching those borders for anyone transitioning into the forbidden. For if the did, they would be his and they may even carry information that he would very much like. Though, now he was to the south, for it had been quite quiet over here and he wanted to gain some insight into this lack of life. He hadn't paid a visit to demolish it, so where had everyone gone? Hiding in their homes as the snow descended down upon them with such force that they became trapped in a matter of days? He smiled to himself, knowing that the south suffered horrible winters. It was as though the season was connected to him; killing in a more silent and cleaner way, but killing all the same. If one was not careful they could freeze where they stood. It was a glorious time of year. And, the blood he planned to spill would lay beautifully upon the snow, as his unnatural markings appeared on his own pelt.

The war would be a moment to remember, as the old ones were for those that could remember, and even those that have only heard of it. Though, this would be something revolutionary, for there was little doubt in his mind that he would fail this time. He had failed before; which was good reason for the little doubt mentioned before, but also made room for the amount of determination and pure need of being successful. If he were to fail now, there was absolutely no chance of ever coming back from it. Though, the only way that he would truly fail would be to end in death. He would not let something so little as the lands being pulled apart fuel a retreat this time. There was nothing they could do to stop him; even if there was no one standing behind him, he would still advance, he would still pose some sort of threat, even if only a small one. He would still kill, even if only lower herd members. He would kill them all until there was no one left but the leaders that detest him so. That he destests with his whole being and soul. That hold him back from all that he is destined to be. He would kill everyone until he was the last one standing, and it would happen; it would. But, he did have people backing him. He had others that either believed in his cause or, just didn't want to die in the slaughter; or even, that faced death before and had no other choice but to ally with him. Of course, siding with the Lord would be the better choice in the end anyway; for he would conquer and anyone whom fought against him would either be dead or prisioners of war, destined to serve him as slaves for the rest of eternity.

And the ones that did ally with the Lord? Would letting them live to do as the wish be enough? Or would that cause more uprising against himself this time, because he had not granted them enough in return for their allegiance? Perhaps if they asked for something in return he would kill them. Though, that did sound a bit extreme. He mused over these thoughts, imagining killing his warriors; after they had fought for him, and only wanting something of substance in return, are slaughtered themselves. He then pushed those thoughts away though, for if they all advanced on him in rebellion, there would be no hope of surviving. He was training the equines as best as he could before the war, they wouldn't just lay down in front of him and take what he dished out. The world didn't work like that unfortunately, some equines had brains that powered their actions, and would chose to do as they wished rather than what someone ordered them. They had the chance to feel unhappy and would try to fix that, rather than feel indifference to what they have or happy to keep their lives in the face of their Lord. No. Perhaps they will be awarded according to their performance on the battlefield. What he could keep track, anyhow. The ones that preform the best or show their loyalty to the fullest will receive the chance to approach him with a propsition for him to consider. Yes, that sounded most worthy of a reward. Consideration. And who knows, perhaps he would grant a propsition or two. Though nothing too outrageous of course, for he was the Lord and no kind and spineless king.

He paused, his nostrils flaring for a moment and scenting the air for any signs of life. It seemed as if the south had well and truly died, laying silently to his right. He paused in his advance though, soundlessly stopping his movements and standing as still as a statue. Flurries of snow flew up around his ankles, the substance light and airy with the beginning of winter; not hard and crunchy just yet. He turned his head, sniffing again. Amongst the non-smells of moisture, snow and cold, there was something else. He glanced through the white and black monotonous landscape, looking for the creature that this smell belonged to. It appeared equine in origin; quite possibly male. He paused his eyes falling upon a red fox in the snow. And beside the small creature was one of pale complexion and of equine stature. He narrowed his eyes, Vondur appearing beside the Lord and purring deep in his throat; though the sound was not that of a house kitten; more of a meancing rumble. "Make your presence known in the face of your Lord, or one might find himself limp and dying on the snow capped ground for fears of enemy alliances. State your intentions, monsieur."

// 1153 words

yey! /matched length
though i think some of it was just blabbering because i just kept writing on about killing.
sometimes that happens. :B

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[Snowflake Smoky]

NEBEAST

The white one had to remind himself to be patient, as the land's master emerged through the mist. It was ironic how similar the two looked, which could either be a good omen or a bad one. If he took it well, it could be a symbol of how Nahele was a perfectly matched henchman for this powerhouse. If it was bad, it could signal that Nahele was easily replaced by the master himself, that his services were unneeded, and that he'd be lucky to leave here with his life. There was something disturbing, or rather disturbed really, about this beast. He walked with power and ease, but the way he moved made it seem as if he were prowling after something in hungry chase. This was a situation in which the only approach was to be careful. Perhaps he had judged the situation too hastily when he had planned it out in his head. No, the white one couldn't be wrong. He knew the game. Hadn't he played it before, if only as a puppet against that brother of his? His saintly brother had probably ventured down a road of no return, siding with the good so strongly that he was burning with pasion for it. Either that or he was cowardly enough to be hiding with the neutral factions. Nahele wanted neither of those. He was open to siding with the dark, completely so, and if he didn't have his way with it, then he'd simply have to try again. This coudn't be the only power hungry insane stallion on the island. He might have more control if he planted the idea in a brain himself, but he didn't really want a pawn either. He didn't want to be responsible for another's actions. He wanted to be able to act on a level that allowed him to not have to think about anything but himself. He walked towards the beast, moving slowly and coming more clearly into the range of vision of the other stag with his held held high and regal, but otherwise submissive. There was a game to be played. He stopped roughly five feet away, and sank into a bow. He had manners, and was not hesitant to use them. He would not pretend to be a peasant prostrating himself out of fear, but one of equally noble blood with an equal goal.

"Death threats are not necessary between those who want the same goal. I am here to offer services, in a sense, for I am not a groveling peasant wanting to flee in the face of a death threat. I am no healer with the power to knit wounds in the most disturbing of fashions, nor am I any great war general who thinks only of battle and carnage and strategy. I am the most trained of agents, and a useful tool when used right. I have boons to be granted in turn, but certainly one so powerful as yourself has the ability to answer such pitiful requests." There was likely little reason in the mind of one such as this, and as such Nahele had reasoned out how to approach this figure. Humility was a wise choice, as such a beast would want to be acknowledge as the most powerful creature in the land, and would be likely suspicious of anything that didn't submit to the might of his forces. He would not be horribly humored towards the cowards and the traitors either, for though they swelled the ranks, should the tide turn they were essentially useless and might not even be there when you woke up in the morning. "I assure you, oh Lord, that I am the most loyal of subjects when treated properly. And while I doubt that I could withstand the might of your forces, I am hesitant to point out that I would not be a wisely made enemy either. I have no taste for the other side of this war, but if I can not stand with a side, than I feel I shall stand against both. It would be a waste of a perfectly good body and an excellently sharp mind. So if I might say so politely, Lord ... , it would be wise to take me into your service. You will not be disappointed. The information I could gain for you, the use I could be to you... It would indeed be a wise move to make, and would strike fear into the hearts of your enemies."

The white one would admit that he was probably icing the cake rather thickly, and that he wasn't fond of signaling a hierarchy that required him to swear allegiance. That didn't change that he felt he was journeying down the proper road. Anyone with this kind of ambition was not stupid, and would likely see the value in someone like Nahele. He could be of great use, but should he decide to become a loose cannon, both sides would regret it. He would make a vicious leader himself, but his distaste for crowds likely cast him out of service for that. "As for the price tag with which I come, my Lord, it is not large, and I have no doubt that your might will be able to grant it. First, there is a twin of me that ventures through these lands. Should I need to, I might guise myself as him to avoid suspicion, but should it come to his destruction, I'd like to bear witness to it if not do it myself. Secondly, I'd like the ability to reside here, and should the chance to take prisoners arise, have the ability to take some myself. Thirdly, apart from this and from you, my Lord, I request the right to live in complete solitude. In affairs such as mind, I find it best that those with the ablity to betray you not know your face." There was one final matter at hand, one question unanswered. Nahele thought he had the answer. "As to what I am called, My Lord, you might address me as the Black Hand. Professional relationships work best with titles I feel, and perhaps things shall flow better if we know not one another's names. May I make the assumption that we have a deal, My Lord?" The white one thought he had this round in the bag. Assumptions though, might prove him wrong and to have overstepped bounds. He would not let himself be walked over though. Mutual respect was healthy, if only for one individual.

Word Count: 1101
Tags: Rama // Appy
Notes: Crafty beast he is.

[aPPY]

[bg=#120700][atrb=border,0,false][atrb=cellpadding,0,false][atrb=cellspacing,0,false][atrb=width,450,true][th] text "speech" thoughts "other characters' speech" Ramaskith narrowed his eyes for a moment, listening as the pale creature spoke. He was interesed in what service one could offer, though the fact that he wanted something in return made him leery. What could the Lord possibly give in return for doing a service that one would usually have to give for free? He had plenty of warriors lining up to fight for him, either out of fear of dying, or because they truly wanted to. Though... Most were not skilled, and this one claimed to be of the 'most trained of agents,' in which the Lord thought might come of some better use. He listened intently as the stag carried on, eying him cautiously. He was basically leaving him no choice but to accept his terms and add him to the ranks. His eyes grew dark at this revelation, not liking the direction this conversation had taken any longer. He dare say that he would turn against him, if not for the acceptance of his offer? Who should think so highly of himself to believe that presenting the Lord with such an ultimatium would not earn him the very death threat that had been given before? And the creature claimed that death threats were not necessary. Ramaskith was beginning to think otherwise. The white stag brought up points that were unneeded, for the very sight of the army would strike fear into any creature's heart if they were smart enough to feel the emotion. If not them all, that the sight of himself, the Lord, would surely do it. He did not need a ghostly figure to do this for him, it was easily enough accomplished. He was quite sure that his enemies were already afraid, having hidden themselves away in preparation of his advances, afraid of coming into contact with Death himself. As for the price that the creature asked for, it did not seem too hard to grant. Though, at the very thought of agreeing to a payment for his services, the Lord became very unhappy. His eyes narrowed further as the stag came to a close, selecting a title for himself and seeing mighty proud of his speech, obviously assuming that he would do nothing but agree, if even for the thought of someone else working on this side of the battle. Ramaskith snorted, stepping closer to the arrogant piece of work, looking down on him. For he was smaller than him, and the Lord took that oppurtunity to appear large against this creature that thought so highly of himself. He most certainly needed to be knocked down from this pedestal he had been standing on to think himself so important in the face of the Lord. "The Black Hand?" He asked, eying the creature carefully as he stepped forward, to the side and then back, uncoiling his tensed muscles. He had been standing still for quite some time, listening to this stag ramble on about how important he could be, how much of an addition he would be to the force; or how much of a hinderance he would be if his place was not immediately given with his payment. "Quite a... Name that requires a repuation to back it up, no?" He continued to walk, pondering things for a moment. He had never heard of this creature before, so the name must be self-given; self-proven. Perhaps this creature only believed himself to be as such because he had known no higher power; had not known the Lord. Perhaps... He was not the skilled fighter he claimed to be, only believing this to be rue because he chose simple and easy opponents. In which, he would claim false tales and titles, and the Lord could only fall into his trap. Ramaskith stopped his pacing, turning to stare at this creature; ears pinning themselves and eyes narrowing once again as he came to this conclusion. "A reputation that equines of the most important stature have, in fact, never heard of." He glared at the stag, this self-named 'Black Hand,' and scowled, moving to stand directly in front of him once again. "Do you try to fool me?" He growled, his words angry instead of simply emotionless, "Or do you simply make things up as you go along, as can be believed by such rambling from before. I do believe that you need to realize who you stand in front of; no matter that you use the correct titles, you show no fear in the presence of myself and that leads me to believe that you are most uneducated." Among other things, this imposter of a 'fighter' could very well be someone sent to learn things from the enemy side, being the spy he claimed to be, but working against the Lord instead of for him. Again, most uneducated. He was beginning to grow tired of this company, angry as his claims, and angry at the fact that someone would even think that he would fall for such an act. Perhaps they believed he was hurting for warriors, that the majority would side with the good, but they would be in for a surprise when they realized how very wrong that thought was. Ramaskith snorted, jumping forward and colliding with the pale figure of the foolish stag, hoof slicing skin as he turned, pivoting and spiting into his ear. "I do believe, considering the circumstances, that you are in no position to be asking things of myself. Quite the opposite actually. You should learn your history, monsieur Black Hand, and perhaps you would learn what you are truly up against. You appear to lack that information." ==Author's Comments . Word Count 945 . Notes - BLEH. . Muse - surfacing, possibly . Tags - Nahele

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Header by Appy - Coding by Abba

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