Post by |-Lucht-| on Sept 29, 2007 14:34:56 GMT -5
They damned me//Vor
They made me//Stallion
I Control//Air
He saw it, it was in the path ahead of him. Corpses of his convey, he could see every tinge of detail so clearly in his swarthy orracles. He could see the crimson blood cascading down every dark edge, pointed edges of dead grass stained and splattered with the dark blood of his collages. There stood he, a minuscule gaunt looking jet rogue, standing there vaguely...his gasps felt thin and painful in his tharnyx. His ebony spheres (that could not obviously be read by emotion), were brimmed with unbearable pain, the pain felt like a dagger in his heart. Scaring him forever. But he could hear those thick bulky words of his father, nearly three months ago. Show no emotion boy, emotion is for the weak. But yet, he was so young and small, he was just on the verge to burst into tears. But he knew better, he would honor his father...he would never give this moment up to cry...he had never cried in his life.
Small lumpy tassel threads rustling slightly as a strong breeze lifted the dark souls into the deepest darkest hole of evil. His eyes burned across the ancient lands, suddenly feeling a strong furious emotion arise in him, it burned a fresh scar down into the core of his organ...revenge. And yet, he knew exactly who had done such deed. Pathious, the destroyer who had been raising for a army for years, destroying all with him. He rolled his ebonite occulars, pain was thick in his esophagus, and the scent of fury and blood filled his nostrils. His plain ebony bod glistened in the dull light.
Vor's rondures suddenly flashed into normal view...a veiw of a different but plain landscape that looked similar to the one in his flashback. Damn flashbacks, he thought bitterly...they came rarely, but when they did they hit him extremely hard. All of them were seemingly just like he remembered, especially this one, he could even smell the powerful stench of dead corpses. His audits twitched as a simple zephyr surpassed the lands, slipping along every crevice of his body. Making his bones chilled from the very core.
He snapped his jaws together, gnashing his fangs together out of sudden despise. Crop lashed out, slicing into the cold seigniory, then snapping upon his quad, droppig low and brushing against his hocks. Lean nape pushed up, nares inhaling the fresh scent...free from the stench that was driving him crazy. A bustle of ebony tendrils ruffled and pressed against his slightly glazed nape again. He stood well structured, like any proud masculine would do. But there was nothing honorable about him, he failed. He never slaughtered Pathious, like these young years have urged him to do. Revenge, was what he thirsted for...that made him yearn for thick blood. These past two years were driving him insane, not being able to avenge the death of his tribe. Thats what his father would want him to do. But he couldn't be reckless, he needed to gain more experience...he was young. Only surviving his fourth year of living. But Pathious was no were to be found, Pathious was said to disappeared long ago. He was hopeless, no were to go.
He was thin and lean, but slightly muscular across his physique. He wasn't the largest of brutes', and he wasn't that strong compared to some...but yes he was very fast unlike most. His hollows flared suddenly out of slight pride of what he had become. But still, guilt had drove him on the verge of instantly. He was slowly becoming something he didn't want. He was becoming more angry, and bitter and reckless. He was becoming careless of his life...as if he wanted it to vanish in thin air. He wasn't like that.
Livid stained caliph struggled to maintain his structure, the very structure he was keeping among this earth. A retractile came down with a loud thunder, its ridged edges slicing the earth and leaving a mark upon the lush tract. His wide sombre oculus lowered, his consumed cranial drooping slightly for a few moments before thrusting itself into the pale welkin. His ivories clamping, curling his lambrums tightly, keeping his swarthy velveteen shut. Though the restless journeys he wanted to tell something, he was spent...and yet he didn't know what to do next.
They aged me//Four years
They Bled me//Mixed blood
They made me//Stallion
They gave me//Air
My hue is//Ebony
I Control//Air
I am//Insane
They say//./.Pain./.Is./.My./.Game./.
He saw it, it was in the path ahead of him. Corpses of his convey, he could see every tinge of detail so clearly in his swarthy orracles. He could see the crimson blood cascading down every dark edge, pointed edges of dead grass stained and splattered with the dark blood of his collages. There stood he, a minuscule gaunt looking jet rogue, standing there vaguely...his gasps felt thin and painful in his tharnyx. His ebony spheres (that could not obviously be read by emotion), were brimmed with unbearable pain, the pain felt like a dagger in his heart. Scaring him forever. But he could hear those thick bulky words of his father, nearly three months ago. Show no emotion boy, emotion is for the weak. But yet, he was so young and small, he was just on the verge to burst into tears. But he knew better, he would honor his father...he would never give this moment up to cry...he had never cried in his life.
Small lumpy tassel threads rustling slightly as a strong breeze lifted the dark souls into the deepest darkest hole of evil. His eyes burned across the ancient lands, suddenly feeling a strong furious emotion arise in him, it burned a fresh scar down into the core of his organ...revenge. And yet, he knew exactly who had done such deed. Pathious, the destroyer who had been raising for a army for years, destroying all with him. He rolled his ebonite occulars, pain was thick in his esophagus, and the scent of fury and blood filled his nostrils. His plain ebony bod glistened in the dull light.
Vor's rondures suddenly flashed into normal view...a veiw of a different but plain landscape that looked similar to the one in his flashback. Damn flashbacks, he thought bitterly...they came rarely, but when they did they hit him extremely hard. All of them were seemingly just like he remembered, especially this one, he could even smell the powerful stench of dead corpses. His audits twitched as a simple zephyr surpassed the lands, slipping along every crevice of his body. Making his bones chilled from the very core.
He snapped his jaws together, gnashing his fangs together out of sudden despise. Crop lashed out, slicing into the cold seigniory, then snapping upon his quad, droppig low and brushing against his hocks. Lean nape pushed up, nares inhaling the fresh scent...free from the stench that was driving him crazy. A bustle of ebony tendrils ruffled and pressed against his slightly glazed nape again. He stood well structured, like any proud masculine would do. But there was nothing honorable about him, he failed. He never slaughtered Pathious, like these young years have urged him to do. Revenge, was what he thirsted for...that made him yearn for thick blood. These past two years were driving him insane, not being able to avenge the death of his tribe. Thats what his father would want him to do. But he couldn't be reckless, he needed to gain more experience...he was young. Only surviving his fourth year of living. But Pathious was no were to be found, Pathious was said to disappeared long ago. He was hopeless, no were to go.
He was thin and lean, but slightly muscular across his physique. He wasn't the largest of brutes', and he wasn't that strong compared to some...but yes he was very fast unlike most. His hollows flared suddenly out of slight pride of what he had become. But still, guilt had drove him on the verge of instantly. He was slowly becoming something he didn't want. He was becoming more angry, and bitter and reckless. He was becoming careless of his life...as if he wanted it to vanish in thin air. He wasn't like that.
Livid stained caliph struggled to maintain his structure, the very structure he was keeping among this earth. A retractile came down with a loud thunder, its ridged edges slicing the earth and leaving a mark upon the lush tract. His wide sombre oculus lowered, his consumed cranial drooping slightly for a few moments before thrusting itself into the pale welkin. His ivories clamping, curling his lambrums tightly, keeping his swarthy velveteen shut. Though the restless journeys he wanted to tell something, he was spent...and yet he didn't know what to do next.