| Subject: i don't need your help |
Author:
distress call
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Date Posted: 18:56:44 11/12/02 Tue
From the cyptic darkness of the umbrage was released a cry of foreshadowing terror. A lithe form wove its path among the humid draperies. Desperate claws tore at his dark attire, snatching at him in some vain effort to free what they guarded of a burden that would acquaint them with their demise. All such efforts proved futile, for the apathetic expression that made such hard lines on a youthful face refused to soften or simper despite uncomfort that seeded itself within the youth's body. The last hope for this place, this area he knew he would vanquish, allowed their agony to explode silently as they realised that they were feeble infants aside his stern composure. They wept their greif, tossing it to the wind so that it may whisper a warning in an ear that would listen. The summoned one laughed to himself, his darkness wrapped on top of itself in the suffocating dampness of the forest. His chuckle was a threatening as his stark facade, rich and deep though it was corrupt. The voice of the devil rode his vocals, seducing in its own format. The summoned one dismisses his mirth, his endless eyes flashing dangerously, collecting what light penetrated the thick blanket of canopy that bulwarked him against what made him more flawless. Highlights of crimson twisted inside of those consuming occulies, enough to make those who studied him shutter. Enough to make those of relative intelligence flee. Or perhaps not yet. He was not old, though he almost wished he was aleady decrepit with age. No, instead he contented himself with his own body, one barely passed the classification of a colt. He was all stallion in terms of his mind; in terms of his blade-sharp cunning. A whisp of moist breath escaped him as he stepped out into the piercing rays of the sunlight. The illumination was reflected against his deep bay coat, his almost blackness seeming to flicker. He was ignited now, and it said so, scribed in a sinister hand, in eyes that looked upon a land he knew would be the first to crumble beneath his splintering hooves. name: distress call
breed: of spanish decendence, though certain lineage is not available.
age: will tread his first step on the earth as a five year old next sunrise.
coloring: a dark bay, drawn in fire red when the sunlight hits it, but black in all other cases. right rear limb is decorated in an ankle high marking of white.
personality: power hungry and desperate, though he cannot admit this too himself. He will kill the innocent and rob them of what they need for survival if it will help him climb the teetering latter of success, for he has been consumed in apathy.
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