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 Posted: Sun Feb 10, 2013 5:19 pm
 Emile stood at the edge of the forest, the army behind her. In sight, but out of earshot of normal voices. Normal voices wasn't what her comrades feared from the mare, however. It was the yells. The screams. The pleas for help that followed Emile everywhere she went. If they weren't all afraid of her or required her skills, a stop would have been put to her. As it were, she was one of the few remaining cold enough to torture and kill those enemies who deserved it. The only one lacking a heart just enough to do whatever was required to extract the necessary information from others. It bothered her not to kill. No matter the age or species.
It also bothered her when she couldn't inflict pain on others for a long period. Her comrades had learned early on not to stop her when she went off on her own. Had learned at the cost of a few lives from their numbers. But what were they to do? There was nowhere to lock her up and even if there was, doing so would only increase the danger. Emile was not to be trusted. Not by enemy or even allies. But she was needed.
The screams washed over her daily, soothing her soul where they would have snapped the strings of other Stars with even a shred of a heart inside their chest. For the pale mare, there was none. It was rumored her chest was empty. That there was no heart there at all to account for how cold she was. But of course those theories were false. It was clear the mare wasn't one of the undead. The only other explanation lead to a beating heart. The only thing seeming to keep the story alive was how afraid they were to check if she did, indeed, have one.
The makeshift horn on Emile's forehead was dripping with blood by the time she was done. She remained by the edge of the forest, a growing pool of it around her hooves from the creatures scattered about her. Since the higher power had seen fit to make her nothing but a regular Star, she had a sharp edged horn made of metal to do her duty work when she needed something smaller. There was a knife tucked away in both sleeves, but the blades were larger than that of an Acturus horn. This served her purpose better. So much better.
With eyes closed, she listened to the steady dripping of her mane while the army far behind her set up camp for the night. It was a long way yet to their destination.
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Posted: Mon Feb 11, 2013 6:12 pm
 It was late in the day, and Ruadh had been sent on border patrol yet again. What was his herd expecting? A full-scale invasion at any moment? He hoped not. While a full-scale invasion could provide for plenty of entertainment and a steady supply of blood (perfect for the containers he'd hidden around the forest now--he had been lucky to find that wandering star with the glass containment vessels, enough that only three-quarters of them were now filled with that star's blood), it did mean that there was a chance he could get injured, and that was annoying. He hated being injured. It meant he couldn't go back to killing, couldn't access those blood banks, couldn't get his exercise. He had to move. He had to exercise. He had to unleash his frenzy and revel in the hunt and the bloodbath. What he absolutely had to avoid at all costs was getting hurt and not being able to fight anyone. That would be an insufferable fate--perhaps even fatal, if he couldn't soak his hat. If he was hurt, there was no one who would help him. There wasn't a single star in all the Shadow he could trust as far as he could drag them. No, he would have to be independent, self-reliant.
Especially because--and this was another good reason to hope that there wouldn't be fighting soon--he was hopelessly, horribly lost. Seriously. He'd completely lost track of where he was, and he was now stranded in the middle of nowhere. Nothing smelled familiar--so far as he could tell, he was a long way from home. So...okay, not a border patrol per se. A scout mission? Hopefully, his insane, engorged commander would buy that. He hoped so. She looked as bloodthirsty as he felt these days.
Speaking of blood, he could smell, quite clearly nearby, that enticing metallic scent. Yes. There was death in the air. Somewhere nearby, someone had killed something--or someone--else, and spread their vital fluids across the foliage. The redcap followed the irresistible aroma to its source--a mare drenched in blood, surrounded by the bodies of her prey.
Oh. Oh, that was...that was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.
The stallion made no noise, simply watching the mare for any movement or reaction. Did she know he was there? Who knows. But he didn't care if she never noticed him. He was just content to look her over, up and down, bathe her in his blood-red eyes, drinking in her every inch of carnage. Beautiful.((wtf just happened.))
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Posted: Sun Apr 07, 2013 5:07 pm
Emile stood for a long time, just savoring in the gentle drip of the blood from her mane. It filled her with comfort. Made her, for the moment, not miss when she could stay in one place and do her tortures as she pleased. Instead of this constant travel. She didn't like it. She longed to stay in one area long enough to build up her work area and be able to lengthen a prisoner's life. Here, she had to be quick. Extract what her army needed to know and kill them. That was not her style. That didn't bring her the calmness she felt when torturing. Just the satisfaction of the kill. Which, while good, just didn't bring as long a lasting satisfaction as the torture did. The screams and the sounds of agony that lasted for days, weeks, even months, depending on the person's tolerance to pain. Most, she found, under her expert hands, lasted a few weeks.
After a while, Emile moved, swinging the fake horn towards the area she knew the camp to be. By now it should be almost set up so she could rest after all that walking. After the destruction she just caused she would sleep well tonight.
That was when she noticed the stallion watching her. Her paler red eyes met his for a time before she moved forward. He was on the side of the path she intended to take back to the camp. She felt no fear at being obstructed from her destination. If he wanted a fight she would give it. She took her eyes off him as she moved closer. Only when she was in a good speaking distance did she stop and glance at him as if she had just noticed him.
"You are not with the army," she stated matter-of-factly, her voice cold and stern. Like one of her soldiers who had stepped out of line. "What business do you have here?"
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Posted: Sat Dec 07, 2013 2:14 pm
Not...with the army? Of course he was with the army. He was a Death knight. A high-ranking member of the organization of the Shadow--oh, right. She wasn't a Shadow herd member. He would have remembered a fascinating and stunning creature like her if he'd seen her before. He knew for a fact that the serene expression on her face, the musical sound of blood dripping from her soaked mane, would be indelibly burned into his mind with the ferocity of an erupting volcano. She was, then, talking about another army. So, there would be a fight after all. Risk of injury or not, he would welcome it. His nostrils flared to drink in the gorgeous scent that wafted from the mare. His eyes were entranced by the pale bloody tone of hers. There was a horn on her head--sharpened, glinting metal, enameled with that precious elixir. Was she a goddess? A nymph? A creature sent straight from Hell to deliver him?
"I scout for the army," he whispered. "I am Ruadh." He shifted, tilting his head. Were those the imprints of blades against the tight cloth of her sleeves? Well-armed. Wonderful. The blood was like spatters of paint drawn by an artist, a maestro. He was not afraid. There was no room for fear in his mind. "You are a master."
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Posted: Wed Jan 08, 2014 10:44 am
Emile simply watched him with eyes as cold as frozen blood. The steady drip caused her mind to settle into one of ease, the screams of the animals she had killed still echoing in her ears. So soon after the kill, she had no desire to bring this stallion in for questioning. At least not yet. Though he said he was with the army, she couldn't remember him. To ensure her reputation didn't get any worse than it was she made sure to make note of every new recruit so she didn't accidentally kill her own comrade. That wouldn't go over well with the others who were already on a thin line with her. They looked for any excuse to do away with her. Well, let them try. She was tougher than she looked.
Red hooves stamped the ground softly under her petite frame as she moved to his side, inspecting him as if she were the leader of this troop. She supposed he could be telling the truth. Sometimes she got so wrapped up in her work she didn't notice anyone or anything else around her.
"Of course," she gave in reply to his compliment. Ever since she was old enough to eat solid food she had been trained for this role. To feel nothing when she gave the final swing that severed a life. From that moment on, torturing and pain was all she did. The only beings she socialized with were her prisoners. The only fun she had was sharpening her tools. She had mastered her craft long ago.
She circled him once, never taking her eyes off him. "If you are with what you say you are, you must already know me. My name?" It never took them long to learn the name of the demon surrounded by blood.
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Posted: Thu Jan 16, 2014 3:49 pm
Oh, but she was perfect. Intelligent, experienced as well as terrific and terrifying. But as much as he ached to have known her all his miserable life, he knew the truth--that she had appeared to him only this day, and only this day had he realized how pathetic he was in the art of bloodshed. It was no scrape on the ego, but it was, once he realized it, disappointing. Her question, really, was what had brought him back to reality--she had asked him her name. She expected him to know her already.
She was not of the Shadow Army, so she must have been of some other army. She was an intruder, and no Death Knight worth the title should let her stay on this territory unimpeded. Could he take her in a fight? Those knives and the false horn said no, but his own confidence said yes. Besides, they were firmly on Shadow Herd land; he could but shout, and he would have the rest of his army at his call. "I do not know your name," he whispered. "We are not of the same army, you and I." His nostrils flared with her scent. "This is not your home."
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Posted: Fri Aug 15, 2014 5:48 pm
Oh, another army? This was interesting news. Very interesting indeed. Not that she would share it with her superiors. If there was a chance they didn't already know. That wasn't her job. That was for the ones like this stallion. If her own employer's scouts weren't doing their jobs, that wasn't her business. It was hard to tell at this point. She had crept away from the rest of them the moment they began to settle down. No one would miss her, though they would notice she wasn't there by the smell that always followed her, no matter the amount of baths. Simply to clean herself of the look. The perfume was something she had worked years to achieve. Covered in it, now, it overpowered the scents of everything and everyone else around her.
"Is it not?" she answered, her voice cold and mature. "And whose would it be?" Of course she knew the answer. Her voice had a note of play in it, like a cat with a mouse. She was unconcerned about this other army. She supposed it was just a result of the training she had had to cast her emotions aside for her line of work. If it came down to it, Emile would take on an entire army by herself for the simple reason she seemed to hold no fear for anything. If she were captured, she would endure the same punishments she dealt to others. And if she didn't die from it, she would be executed. For that was what armies did to prisoners. When her time came, she wouldn't die in captivity or under a sharp knife.
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Posted: Sat Aug 30, 2014 12:16 pm
It was his home, of course. It had been his home now for longer than any other member of the herd. He remembered when this forest was empty but for Moloch, his mate, and his half-solara adviser. They had disappeared when Sunflare had scattered them. But Ruadh, he had come back. If any star had reason to claim this forest as his own, his own home, his own territory, his own place, his and his alone, it was Ruadh. Blodeuwedd? He'd met her grandparents when they were but foals. He remembered when the filly had been kidnapped from her mother in Sunflare. Blodeuwedd was but a child. Nothing more. And yet, the forest, so it was decreed, belonged to her and her alone. How odd the march of truth. Like a weevil or a maggot, boring in and chewing out. All wriggling and squirming, until you never knew quite where it was until it tumbled from your hat and over your eyes and past your nose.
"This forest belongs to the Shadow," he whispered. A mare such as this would never be intimidated. Certainly not by his own presence. And he didn't want her to be intimidated. He wanted to be her own. "To the Queen, and to the Death General. I am not alone," he added. "There are others. I am a knight. I...can chase you out." He made no move. No move to attack. No swishing of the tail, no pawing of the hoof. No reason to. He did not feel aggression to this trespasser. Only fascination and obsession. She could go where she liked. So long as it was not within his forest.
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