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 Posted: Sun Nov 12, 2006 11:27 am
Envy sat, as usual, among the sickly looking grasses that managed to survive below the peak of the great mountain. How they did it was a wonder to even him, though perhaps they were a different type, suited to the constant darkness and occasinal fog that berated Envy's Home," of sorts. Not that it was any home to be proud of. The only herd that could call this place home was the fallen, those who no longer required food, drink, sleep. And the area Envy was was about as barren and desolate as yo ucould get. Near the base of the mountain, a little ways up, stretched great rocky cliffs and massive crags, riddled with hidden palces that any normal deer would soon die in, probably from some sort of fall. Of course the fallen roamed the area fearlessly, not having any worry of death, and so Envy had observed more than one coming here on a regular basis. Envy himself found that he 'enjoyed' this place, as much as he enjoyed anything anyways. Though his enjoyment was more like a bitter anger than anything happy, perhaps because this place served to remind him of his cruel immortality. The despicable curse that, even if he wished for death, would not come. He scowled, and sat some more, picking irrately at the rock with his hoof.
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Posted: Mon Nov 13, 2006 7:27 pm
The coward stepped with ever fidgety feet, his ears forever twirling to an undying howl. Though it had been some time since his tragic demise, the Sgorrla had never shaken the feeling that the pack was still hunting him, still stalking in the moonlight. It was pathetic, really, to see such a dangerous creature which obviously had no reason to fear death walking on egg shells around his decayed home, careful not to arrouse any packs that had strayed too far towards the peak. Though logic told him the presence of a living pack was impossible at the mountain, his curse was to have the flight instinct forever on his mind, as if wires had crossed in his brain structure. He was a paranoid being when it came down to it, paranoid in all his gorey horror. The king of the scared and cowardly, he spat at himself, a role model for deserters and frightened fawns.
His bitter outlook had turned him recluse in his death, not bothering to truely conversate with any of his herd mates. Most especially the stags, for deserting a post is something that even the fallen can shake their heads in disapproval at. How many of his herd had died for his cowardice? That question would never be answered, possibley another pointed thorn to his vine of a curse.
As the walker came round the desolate landscape, his eyes landed on the sad little fawn, Envy, and his twisted, pitiful antler. To be envious must be an awful exsistance, the stag mused. Though, to be a coward was no better, of course. He moved towards the cursed youngster, taking great care as to not seem like he wanted to talk, for he didn't. Though he had opted for solitude since his fall, it eased him some to be around another of the herd, perhaps haing something to do with the deeply rooted instincts of the Herla.
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Posted: Tue Nov 14, 2006 5:02 pm
Envy's ears flickered as they caught a faint noise. A small clip, like that of hoof on rock echoed lightly through the night. The sound grew closer, and at last Envy could see what it was. Obvioulsy, another of the fallen, although not one that Envy ever remembered having conversed with before. Not that Envy made a point of conversing with many of them in the first place. He wasn't stupid, nor did he try and fool himself into thinking that they were a herd. Envy knew better. All the fallen knew better. There was no bond between their so called "herd," no sense of kinship that drew them together as those of the living had. Though some fallen may be friends with some other, it was more rare than not, and for the most part the group existed fairly solitarily. They were together simply because of their curse, nothing more, nothing less, and Envy treated that as something that just was, neither regreting nor embracing it.
It came as no real surprise that the stag who approached gave no greeting or acknowledgement, and neither did Envy. The small calf simly watched the other for a little, recognizing him, and trying to place who he was. Ah...yes, he knew this one. The cowardly sgorrla who had destered his herd...yes, they all knew of him. Well really, all the fallen were infamous for something, and nothing good. In this sense, Envy felt no real grudge against the stag as some of the others might, though, Envy was also a calf, and had never been an outrider in any herd. However there was that lingering jealousy that never really left, which came to Envy being angry at the stag for a different reason entirely. Having the chance to be part of a herd, even if it was a forsaken one, and then just giving it up, deserting. Why, why would anyone do that? That stag, he had at least belonged, something Envy longed for more than almost anything else. As the older one approached, Envy continued his stare, wondering if perhaps the stag would notice at all even.
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Posted: Sat Nov 18, 2006 6:55 am
The rotted stag moved numbly over the terrain, as he had a thousand times before. He was almost gracefully, in his horrific way, jumping with light feet from unstable rocks to larger ones. The ground and soil in the home of the Fallen was nothing to brag about. Like almost everything else here, it was disgusting and lifeless, lacking the nutrients to give food to the few plants scattered about. The only things that could truely grow here were the first plants to grow on the world, when the soil was none exsistent. On the rocks grew fungus, and weeds littered the floor. Occasionally, a fern was able to pop out of the worthless vegetation, but it was a rare occurance. The entire atmosphere was bleak and brown; no green here.
Knarl eyed the cursed calf suspicously, waiting the ridicule of a male. 'Deserter,' they often spat, 'coward!' The words burned in his old wounds from the wolves, as if all things on the world were out to destroy him with mental and physical abuse. His fidgeting carcass moved slowly towards the diseased looking youth, ignoring the twisted and bent rack. He did not feel sorry for the other Fallen, for they were all banished to the peak for a reason. It was nothing personal, really, just emotionless. The 'herd' had the emotionless trait, only carrying what they were put here for. He carried an everlasting cowardess, and the green youngster before him carried envy.
He came to a stop, if you could call it that, in front of Envy, twitching as he always did, eyes wandering, looking for the source of the constant howl. He never did find it the pack, and it was almost certain all that was left of their lines had dwindled, for that was the way with the canine population. They took to smaller herds, and didn't keep herds going, such as the herds of the living Herla. He looked expectantly at the youngster, as if demanding respect. Another thing all the Fallen were cursed with was a need to feel respected in life, for their egos were something that no living creature could test. They beat themselves up, of course, mentally berating themselves for what they had done in life to deserve this fate, but on the flipside, if another was to speak the unspoken thoughts, it meant a war between the dead. Rank, though it truely hardley exsisted to them anymore, was something to cling to, the only wisp of life they had left. At Anlach they fought, and would fight for eternity, roughing out who was boss and who was below them all. And for this reason, Knarl stared down Envy as if waiting for an acknowledgement, for Envy was but a calf, and Knarl was a ranking stag.
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Posted: Sat Jan 06, 2007 10:12 am
ooc i'm going to pull knarl out. <3
Quickly loosing interest in the cursed calf, Knarl turned about and sprinted off. On his way off, he swerved to the left with a freakish twitch and bounded at full speed. An unseen terror had been heard, a wolf cry in the endless night. To the rest of the herd, it was his psychotic mannerism. To Herne, it was his curse. To him, it was his terror and his curse. Every fallen had one, though they all handled it in different ways. His warped paranoia created an entirely new world for him, in which savagely hungry wolves leapt out from every tree, and their eerie call never seiced to pierce the forever black. And such was the Fallen exsistense.
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