(( This is a SOLO RP for Skah Talutah, Darkmoon Dancer ))
Everything stood still in an eerie crimson glow.
The sky above was dark as could be, with the single exception of the source of intimidating lighting: the brightly glowing blood moon.
Every so often, a vicious wind would tear through the trees as if it were trying to pluck them from the very surface of the earth. It bit, harsh and cold. It whipped hair this way and that, threatening to pull it out. Eyes couldn't be kept open, not if one wanted to keep them clear of possible impalement.
That horrid wind didn't ride on it's own, no. It brought everything small enough to pick up with it. Pebbles, dust, dirt, leaves, twigs, anything light-weight that made a good projectile. Almost like it had it in for every living thing that was dumb enough to leave cover. And perhaps that's exactly why it was there.
The world could do with some cleaning.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A blind rage.
Everything was blurry, not making sense, yet he lashed out at anything that moved.
It was the only way he knew to make it stop.
All he wanted was for it all to stop.
Hair, fur, flesh flew in every direction. It was a gory mess.
He finally stopped. Dropped his taloned-feet to the ground once more and tried to clear his head.
No.
It wouldn't happen.
Simply wasn't possible.
Body hot with a burning anger, he couldn't think straight.
All there was were emotions:
that burning anger,
heart-wrenching sadness,
a twisted lusting for blood and revenge.
This foal was off to a bad start, but it was just that: a bloody beginning.
Everything was blurry, not making sense, yet he lashed out at anything that moved.
It was the only way he knew to make it stop.
All he wanted was for it all to stop.
Hair, fur, flesh flew in every direction. It was a gory mess.
He finally stopped. Dropped his taloned-feet to the ground once more and tried to clear his head.
No.
It wouldn't happen.
Simply wasn't possible.
Body hot with a burning anger, he couldn't think straight.
All there was were emotions:
that burning anger,
heart-wrenching sadness,
a twisted lusting for blood and revenge.
This foal was off to a bad start, but it was just that: a bloody beginning.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Not a sound could be heard except the wicked howling of the wind. There were no night-songs, no bat squeaks, no nothing. Any living animal that strayed into the moon's crimson light had sightless eyes and looked bloody and dead. And perhaps they were. There was no telling grim truth from grisly fiction on that dreadful night.
Ghouls were sighted left, right, and center. Shadows pressed down on walkers-by, suffocating, trying to absorb them into their midst. Monsters terrified little ones and drafts alike, reducing any to a state of babbling fear.
The only creatures that had not dumbly strayed into this maelstrom of darkness, but embraced it wholeheartedly... demons.
They roamed with their heads held high. Bloodcurdling howls aimed at the moon, wrenching wails and cries, and maniacal laughter all went unheard while the wind was whirling, but when it finally stilled right around the stroke of midnight... there was nothing else to fall on listening ears.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
His body shook, adrenaline finally working it's way out of his system.
Eyesight was clearing, things had shape now, slowly coming into focus.
Head drooping, muzzle scraping the ground, he tried to still the shakes.
No avail.
Black talons covered in blood, he stood in a puddle of warmth.
That too, was blood.
Lifting his head, the foal cast his now-clear gaze around him to find disaster.
Mere paces away lay two bodies... or what was left of them: one white, one black.
His former voices of reason and guidance, now lying in pieces, dead.
Eyes tearing up, the foal began to cry. But not in sadness... in a firey anger that would only extinguish with his last breath.
They had deserved it.
Eyesight was clearing, things had shape now, slowly coming into focus.
Head drooping, muzzle scraping the ground, he tried to still the shakes.
No avail.
Black talons covered in blood, he stood in a puddle of warmth.
That too, was blood.
Lifting his head, the foal cast his now-clear gaze around him to find disaster.
Mere paces away lay two bodies... or what was left of them: one white, one black.
His former voices of reason and guidance, now lying in pieces, dead.
Eyes tearing up, the foal began to cry. But not in sadness... in a firey anger that would only extinguish with his last breath.
They had deserved it.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The bloodmoon had called out monsters and demons of every shape, size and design. There were drooling spiders, snapping dragons, slit-eyed snakes, murderous wolves, disembowelled cadavers, lumbering undead, fanged beasts, poisonous worms, and everything else that crept, slithered, pounced, ravaged, preyed and hunted.
Anything and everything that wandered the land that night had an evil glint in its' eyes, and not just because of the moon's glow. That same moon seemed to be having some sort of effect on those that were pre-disposed to even a touch of evil or malice. It was as if the moon was a beacon, a calling to anything that lacked a heart, to anything that wanted to murder and kill.
This was a night for unknown horror.
This was the night of the Blood Moon Carnival.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
What the foal hadn't known, was that he was being watched.
Two blood-red eyes followed his every kick, slash and bite on that night of his very first two kills. But only after the deed was done, when the foal stood crying his angry tears, that the watcher revealed herself.
She flew down on graceful wings to land on the bloody mess below. Her pearly white feathers now soiled with dirty, drying crimson.
"They didn't know how to raise yoooouuuu. Didn't undersssstand yoouuuuu." She hissed, unblinking eyes following his golden pair. Head tilting to one side to look at him better with the opposite eye as she continued.
"But I doooooo...."
Her words was drawn out, but practiced, like she had once spoken beautifully, but was now getting on in years and everything needed to be longer to have effect. It was this strange speech that had the foal's attention, his ears trained forward on her, but yet he stood tensed and ready.
Seeing that she had at least gotten his attention, now was the time to pull him in.
"Let me tell yooouuuu a sssstoryyyy... I think it might interessst yooouuuu..."
The foal listened to her, but with a snarl on his lips, ready to pounce and devour her whole if she was lying.
Two blood-red eyes followed his every kick, slash and bite on that night of his very first two kills. But only after the deed was done, when the foal stood crying his angry tears, that the watcher revealed herself.
She flew down on graceful wings to land on the bloody mess below. Her pearly white feathers now soiled with dirty, drying crimson.
"They didn't know how to raise yoooouuuu. Didn't undersssstand yoouuuuu." She hissed, unblinking eyes following his golden pair. Head tilting to one side to look at him better with the opposite eye as she continued.
"But I doooooo...."
Her words was drawn out, but practiced, like she had once spoken beautifully, but was now getting on in years and everything needed to be longer to have effect. It was this strange speech that had the foal's attention, his ears trained forward on her, but yet he stood tensed and ready.
Seeing that she had at least gotten his attention, now was the time to pull him in.
"Let me tell yooouuuu a sssstoryyyy... I think it might interessst yooouuuu..."
The foal listened to her, but with a snarl on his lips, ready to pounce and devour her whole if she was lying.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He found himself in a broken cage. He was cold, wet, and bleeding all over. Confused and angry -oh sooo angry- the stallion lifted his head from where it had laid all evening and into the night. Long hair caked with blood was strewn across his muzzle, keeping his expression hidden from the world outside. A quick shake sent those strands on their way down his neck, and his golden eyes and scarred face could be seen once more.
He was not happy. And he would have his revenge.
Rising from his cage, he took a few moments to look at his surroundings, only to realise that his revenge must have already been wrought.
No one else he knew could leave artistic scores that deep in bodies.
No, this was his handiwork.
There was no mistaking that.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Now, thissss isss the ssstoryyyy assss it isss told by otherssss...."
The watcher settled in to the corpses, getting comfortable, before beginning to retell her tale:
"To some the crow is a bringer of bad news, but the truth is that it's not the crow you have to worry about, oh no. It's the White Raven. She starts out slowly, prowling about at the earliest of day and watches from a distance. Often mistaken for a seagull, or pigeon, she usually looks really quite harmless, and she is... unless you catch her eye and she selects you.
You see, it all started out real nice and fuzzy, but it all went horribly, horribly wrong. Outcast from her own kind for being white, she grew lonely and set off in search of companionship of some sort, of any sort! Slowly she befriended a murder of crows, and they followed her wherever she went, knowing that she could find the best grub, becoming their leader of sorts. But this wasn't enough. She wanted more, she wanted someone more intelligent than those crows... and so she selected a little girl.
She would watch her from afar at first. And each day she would inch a little closer, and each day there would be one more crow in her stead that would not come near, but would sit and watch, almost as if they kept guard from afar. Eventually came a day where the little girl, long black hair tied up in ribbons playing outside by herself, noticed the white raven and waddled closer. The raven ruffled her feathers, but not long after took a single hop towards the girl. They stood there for several moments eyeing each other, one red eye staring into a pair of brown ones until the girl braved a move. Her pudgy little hand stretched it's five little fingers to touch the bird, to feel it's silky feathers, and that was fine... until the unthinkable happened. The girl grasped onto a handful of feathers... and tugged. And that was the end of it.
Thrown into a blind rage the White Raven screeched and threw herself at the girl, talons first. They caught hair and skin and tugged and tore all the same, wrapping several strands around the little girl's neck as she flew around her in circles, cawing angrily. How could she have been so stupid to think that a mere human could be kind and gentle?! She pumped that anger into every strike of her wings, slashing and cutting into the girl, making her scream out for her father and cry as she tried to grab onto the flailing bird once more. But by the time the father made it outside -though he came running- he didn't make it in time. He ran out screaming insults at the raven, waving his arms about trying to shoo it away, but the second he got into striking range the raven changed her target and attacked the father, lifting up and off of the now-corpse of his precious little girl. His fate was not dissimilar to his daughter's, and before long there were crows flocking in this yard, cawing and krawing at one another in an attempt to get a scrap of meat.
The White Raven became cold and heartless, more calculating than any other crow or raven, and to add, she developed a taste for blood. And for human flesh. But she is a bird of sentiment, of memory, and so with each kill, she takes a souvenir back to her growing roost and guards them with her life.
Her murder of crows will never grow hungry, as they still follow her about to this day, knowing that wherever she strayed she would find a suitable victim... and tonight's dinner.
So if you ever spot a white bird off in the distance, you better hope that it's not The White Raven. And if you start seeing more and more crows every day following the spotting of that white bird... you better say goodbye to all your loved ones, for she has no mercy. Mercy is for the weak, and for the dead."
Upon finishing her telling, she seemed to regain her trailing accent as if she could only speak without hissing when she really concentrated.
"Sssssooooooo...." a devilish grin slapped across her beak, "Howwwww would yooouuuuu like to beeee miiiiiine? Myyyyy White Bloooood?"
The watcher settled in to the corpses, getting comfortable, before beginning to retell her tale:
"To some the crow is a bringer of bad news, but the truth is that it's not the crow you have to worry about, oh no. It's the White Raven. She starts out slowly, prowling about at the earliest of day and watches from a distance. Often mistaken for a seagull, or pigeon, she usually looks really quite harmless, and she is... unless you catch her eye and she selects you.
You see, it all started out real nice and fuzzy, but it all went horribly, horribly wrong. Outcast from her own kind for being white, she grew lonely and set off in search of companionship of some sort, of any sort! Slowly she befriended a murder of crows, and they followed her wherever she went, knowing that she could find the best grub, becoming their leader of sorts. But this wasn't enough. She wanted more, she wanted someone more intelligent than those crows... and so she selected a little girl.
She would watch her from afar at first. And each day she would inch a little closer, and each day there would be one more crow in her stead that would not come near, but would sit and watch, almost as if they kept guard from afar. Eventually came a day where the little girl, long black hair tied up in ribbons playing outside by herself, noticed the white raven and waddled closer. The raven ruffled her feathers, but not long after took a single hop towards the girl. They stood there for several moments eyeing each other, one red eye staring into a pair of brown ones until the girl braved a move. Her pudgy little hand stretched it's five little fingers to touch the bird, to feel it's silky feathers, and that was fine... until the unthinkable happened. The girl grasped onto a handful of feathers... and tugged. And that was the end of it.
Thrown into a blind rage the White Raven screeched and threw herself at the girl, talons first. They caught hair and skin and tugged and tore all the same, wrapping several strands around the little girl's neck as she flew around her in circles, cawing angrily. How could she have been so stupid to think that a mere human could be kind and gentle?! She pumped that anger into every strike of her wings, slashing and cutting into the girl, making her scream out for her father and cry as she tried to grab onto the flailing bird once more. But by the time the father made it outside -though he came running- he didn't make it in time. He ran out screaming insults at the raven, waving his arms about trying to shoo it away, but the second he got into striking range the raven changed her target and attacked the father, lifting up and off of the now-corpse of his precious little girl. His fate was not dissimilar to his daughter's, and before long there were crows flocking in this yard, cawing and krawing at one another in an attempt to get a scrap of meat.
The White Raven became cold and heartless, more calculating than any other crow or raven, and to add, she developed a taste for blood. And for human flesh. But she is a bird of sentiment, of memory, and so with each kill, she takes a souvenir back to her growing roost and guards them with her life.
Her murder of crows will never grow hungry, as they still follow her about to this day, knowing that wherever she strayed she would find a suitable victim... and tonight's dinner.
So if you ever spot a white bird off in the distance, you better hope that it's not The White Raven. And if you start seeing more and more crows every day following the spotting of that white bird... you better say goodbye to all your loved ones, for she has no mercy. Mercy is for the weak, and for the dead."
Upon finishing her telling, she seemed to regain her trailing accent as if she could only speak without hissing when she really concentrated.
"Sssssooooooo...." a devilish grin slapped across her beak, "Howwwww would yooouuuuu like to beeee miiiiiine? Myyyyy White Bloooood?"
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Surveying the destruction that he had reigned the clawed stallion could not leave the area until he had gathered his prizes. Flicking body parts away here and there, it didn't take him long to find a few trinkets.
An intricate hairpin taken from what used to be a beautiful maiden;
an indigo scale from the powerful kirin;
and a bloodied hoof from the remaining body...parts.
Oh yes, these would do just fine.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The foal had plopped to the ground, enraptured by the story that the White Raven told, unbelieving that he could really become part of the wicked myth he had just been told.
But now he understood exactly why she told him her tale. It was similar to his own. How could he have been foolish enough to allow those two make him soft? He had let them teach him about feelings and nice things.
Well... he had had his moment of weakness. And now it was done.
It took him a few good minutes to fully process what the raven had proposed, during which he tempted a curious glance around.
What he saw, was exactly what he had expected to see, but didn't notice until after the story had been told.
There were beady black eyes looking at him from every direction. All a respectful distance away, but each and every one focused on the meal on the ground.
The raven stayed silent for a while, giving him time to think it over. It could be a life-changing decision, that is... his life could in fact be on the line. If she wanted it to be. But she could decide that later.
He was watching the murder, eyes wide and yet glinting with a sort of lusting, she would call it.
"They will not pouncccccce... Not until yoouuuu ssssayyyyy ssssooooo, my White Blood, my Skah Talutah."
At that, the foal perked up, nodding once with confidence. He liked that name. His last one had been so.... tame. No need to remember it. He was hers now.
"I will be your Skah Talutah."
His head rose, and he stood tall, tail swishing back and forth with purpose.
Finally... someone who understood him.
But now he understood exactly why she told him her tale. It was similar to his own. How could he have been foolish enough to allow those two make him soft? He had let them teach him about feelings and nice things.
Well... he had had his moment of weakness. And now it was done.
It took him a few good minutes to fully process what the raven had proposed, during which he tempted a curious glance around.
What he saw, was exactly what he had expected to see, but didn't notice until after the story had been told.
There were beady black eyes looking at him from every direction. All a respectful distance away, but each and every one focused on the meal on the ground.
The raven stayed silent for a while, giving him time to think it over. It could be a life-changing decision, that is... his life could in fact be on the line. If she wanted it to be. But she could decide that later.
He was watching the murder, eyes wide and yet glinting with a sort of lusting, she would call it.
"They will not pouncccccce... Not until yoouuuu ssssayyyyy ssssooooo, my White Blood, my Skah Talutah."
At that, the foal perked up, nodding once with confidence. He liked that name. His last one had been so.... tame. No need to remember it. He was hers now.
"I will be your Skah Talutah."
His head rose, and he stood tall, tail swishing back and forth with purpose.
Finally... someone who understood him.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Still confused as to why he would have chosen to nap after what must have been a vicious fight, the clawed stallion looked up to the skies, searching for someone that surely couldn't be too far off. Less than a moment later a swooping white figure landed on his rump with a satisfied grin across her beak. Just as he had expected.
"Thought that Death mayyy have grasssped at you, my prodigy. That sssskull of yoursss took quite a ssssmash," she cawed.
"A headache, nothing more," chuckling, he drew her attention to what she had come down to see. "I have taken my newest possessions. Let's leave this place. I'm still hungry."
And with that ghastly sentence hanging in the air, the pair made their way out of the devastated carnival grounds. The night was still young and there was much left to terrorize before the sky would clear of the bloodmoon.
