origins. {calling all deities!}

[MADDEUS]

[style=border: 5px solid #41393D; background-color: #41393D; float: left; margin-right: 5px; margin-bottom: 5px; text-align: center; padding: 90 5 5 5;][/style] [style=border-top: 10px solid #41393D; font-family: arial; font-weight: 100; text-transform: uppercase; color: #41393D; line-height: 33px; font-size: 25px; letter-spacing: -2px; padding-top: 5px;]THOU I WALK THROUGH THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH[/style][style=font-family: helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: 15px; text-align: justify; border-bottom: 10px solid #41393D; padding: 10 0 10 0;]Oh, this damn place. The air was thick and muggy, the light dim and flat. It revealed only the bare details of the vast moorlands, the outlines of marshy islands hovered faintly in the distance. Blackflies and gnats crawled across his skin, which was twitching like a writhing animal in irritation. He wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for the Moorwater. It swirled lazily past his legs, darkening the white stockings to a muddy grey. As he breathed in he could practically taste the power that rippled in the water, molecules of some extraordinary substance mixing with the H₂O. As he stood there he could feel the same power flowing in his blood, the Moorwater ran through his body as plentifully as it did in the marshes around him.

He dipped his head towards the water, his yellow-eyed reflection looking plainly back. His face was handsome, a fine Morgan head with an unusual stripe that veered off from the center of his face to hug his cheek and end at the upper lip. The eye that rested in the middle of the stripe was black with a thin yellow iris. It closed as he bent lower and parted his lips to drink. The Moorwater trickled down his throat, sending a tingle through every tissue it touched. In this land the water was at it's greatest concentration, and as he straightened his neck the water was warm and heavy in his belly. The pests were starting to piss him off, he slapped his flanks irritably with his tail. With a flick of his head the flies dropped in unison to land in the water, all of them seeming to writhe in agony. No insect touched him after that.

The stallion began to wade towards the distant islands, his movements slightly hindered as the water sat above knee-height. He was not large by equine standards, standing a modest sixteen hands. His breed was not known for producing giants, but then again he couldn't really remember what his pedigree even was. When he did bother to try and think back, his mind seemed unable to produce any type of memory about his family or his heritage. He remembered coming to this land, and the bleeding, and the dieing, but what came before that, he had no idea. Perhaps it was a side-effect of the Moorwater, or damage from his destructive life-cycle habit. Speaking of which, he was beginning to grow bored of death. It was nice at first; not having to eat, or sleep, but the thirst for lifeblood was beginning to wear on him. Even as a deity he still craved it, probably moreso than most dead horses. Over the years he had developed a healthy appetite for flesh, and now he wondered if it was soon time to feast.

After nearly half an hour he finally reached the islands. Setting one foot on the bank, he hoisted himself onto the dry land. As the water dripped down his muscled frame he glanced about with yellow eyes, straining to make out anything in the gloom. He had been feeling something for the past few weeks, a strange awareness. He could faintly feel the presence of two others, two others that felt as powerful as him. A faint curiosity had been sparked as to who, or what, they were, and he had come here to see if they, too, were drawn to the Moor. Only time would tell if they would actually appear.

credit `` columba of on the edge![/style]

[Jakren]

to kiss my lips will leave you cold tonight
you'll need my blood

[/size][/center]

Four black limbs moved slowly through the standing water hindered by the height and mush of earth beneath his hooves. Tons of fevered insects rested on his thin frame, desperately biting at his flanks searching for an easy meal. If it was possible, the corpse of a horse smirked. ”Good luck bastards, I seek the same taste...” Even the thought of blood sent a sickening twist of joy through his belly. Oh the joys of being something dead. The insects were a pest before but nothing compared to being a true walking dead. His sense of smell was not quite as strong as it had once been when you know he had a face, but even he couldn’t deny the delicious rotten odor that followed him about. It was more though, the Moorwater that had entangled in his blood and made him something more. Something to truly fear, even more so then his incredibly handsome appearance. He had risen into a new rank, something beyond mortals. He was a Deity. Perhaps his mindless wandering and chats with inanimate objects had finally paid off. Here he was, drinking from the most powerful sources, guarding it enviously to himself.

It didn’t take long for him to come upon the faint traces of another, he bore a similar scent. The mark of a fellow god. He slowed in his slow pace, eyeless skull turning about to face the assumed direction, ears lifted and strained painfully forward. He was not far, he could sense him. There was no heartbeat, or the steady rush of breathing, lacking in his own frame, but he was there. A snarl like expression crossed his face, tossing up his head, black mane washed in moorwater he raced blindly forward. His gait was awkward, unlike others. He lifted his fore legs up far too high, nearly leaping with every stride. It was an awkward and over exaggerated motion, though one he had learned led to the least amount of falls. His broken frame had taken its share of trips and tumbles down hills and mountain sides in his reckless racing. Had he not have already been dead, he would have certainly been dead by now. No matter now though. Trudging awkwardly through the swamplands, he reached the somewhat firmness of land and reached for it. He could feel him their, his fellow Deity.

He snorted, or what would have been a snort had tender nostrils lined his once handsome face still. Instead, it was a rough rush of cool air, expelled with much less noise but the intent of looking big and bad was still there. Raising his head high, a flick of black forelock covering one grotesque eyesocket, he took a few bold steps forward. ”Names Jakren, you must be the other dead ‘un here?” His face contorted into the same gruesome smirk it had before, or what looked like one. He sensed no beautiful thriving pulse, not the shallow breath of fear. Perhaps he would find some sort of an equal among these daft and boring equines.

ooc: wow this was crap XDD sorreh I haven played a horse since this place last closed! D:

with your neck, I'll kiss you violently
pull away from this embrace before it's too late

[/size][/center]

[vor]

I've been watching the time slip by me
Losing track has never been hard

The heavy, hot breaths of the blessed, or maybe cursed waters of Eventide left the tiny island lost in the fog, cut off from mortal demands, and untouched by Grandfather Time. Among the thicket, a weird spiral of intense green, stringy grass and broad leaf bushes, bag worms made their homes. The silky bag crawled with dark masses, but at this time of day, the yellow spots along their backsides seem to glow--a gift from drinking the mythic waters of the deities. But hidden from their light and sheltered underneath the cedar trees, Vor viciously plucked away at her tail. The habit had grown out of nervousness and stress. Anymore, she spent more time chewing on her stumping, silver tresses than grazing. Well, eating had never been high on her priority list. She had long ago discovered the godly waters gave her all the nutrients her body needed. Though the taste was tangy and bitter, she 'spose that was better than nibbling on grass that had no flavor.

The voice in the distant caused a ruckus. Vor lifted her large head upwards. Child-like and still blue eyes were deer-shaped and expressive; the feeling of fear twinkled from her oval pupil to her iris. Absently, the blank eye in the middle of her forehead closed as her forelock fell limply down the seam of her face. The gray bangs hid her lop-sided blaze. The absence of color in her hair was striking against her dark chocolate face. From her face, the rich color trickled down her spine to her tail and dyed her left foreleg in the color. Three stripes leaked down the left side of her barrel and came together as a single, diagonal stripe on her right side. The rest of her body was a blank canvas with hints of piggy pink skin underneath the coarse hairs. As lop-sided as her body was, the god's extensive mane tickled her knee caps. Combined with her greatly out of proportion head and filly skinny and length legs, Vor appeared to be very front heavy. Yet as she weaved through the spongy moss that coated the limestone flooring, nothing but grace blessed her every tender step.

Vor could move easily in the underbrush. Being immortal at age two had left her small and fragile at 14.3 hands. The strong line of Akhal-teke blood refined her hollow bones and gave her a sharp, expressive face. She was not pure bred by any means. Some other blood ran in her veins, giving her this rather odd color. Like her spiderset, the deity loathed her color. She stood out among the rest. Their hurtful eyes tore her faith in others to broken shard of glass. Those shards had wounded her deeply. Skittish and silent, the filly found more comfort in the woods with deer than her species. The lot of 'em were not kind. Her purest father was a fair representation of the new faction. An unloved misfit, Vor was easily enough able to escape without raising concerns. No one missed a filly who lacked beauty.

There was a break in the fog. Like a distant shadow, Vor watched the two, undead stallions. Their decaying scent caused her to scrunch her delicate nose. They were as much a mutant as she and just as damned. But she found no comfort among mutants, much less undead ones. They came with violent cravings for the spark of life. Too often Vor had found herself evading them. A shudder rocked her body as the thought of their teeth puncturing into her ivory neck. She could imagine the feel of the suction of their lips and the dribbles of her blood against her skin. Vor stared hard at them, noticing one was far more decayed than the other. The name Jarken floated into her anorexic ears. Soon enough, the aura of their power hit her heard heart like a truck going 85 on 65 mph highway. These were the other gods she had felt stirring in the lands. In some strange way, Vor assumed that as gods, they shared some deeper connection that allowed them to sense where the others were. The filly had spent most of that time fleeing from them when they came too close.

But she could not flee now. No, her scent and aura was mixing with theirs in the changing breeze. Vor ducked her head low to the ground. She slunk off to the side nearest the tree line. The dull light of dawn was creeping closer to the horizon, but it would be hours before the fog would be burned. She took advantage of the darkness to cling desperately onto the shadows of the trees. Her moves created ruffles and rustling sounds. Not that it mattered at this point. Vor was sure to be found by them. Still, the panic began to rise in her throat. She froze against a yearling tree as Jarken's scent once again filled her nostrils. With terror carved deeply into her eyes, Vor's eyes pleaded for an escape.




ooc: Ehhh, okay.

[MADDEUS]

[style=border: 5px solid #41393D; background-color: #41393D; float: left; margin-right: 5px; margin-bottom: 5px; text-align: center; padding: 90 5 5 5;][/style] [style=border-top: 10px solid #41393D; font-family: arial; font-weight: 100; text-transform: uppercase; color: #41393D; line-height: 33px; font-size: 25px; letter-spacing: -2px; padding-top: 5px;]THERE'S SOMETHING INSIDE ME THAT SOFTLY KILLS EVERYONE AROUND[/style][style=font-family: helvetica; font-size: 11px; line-height: 15px; text-align: justify; border-bottom: 10px solid #41393D; padding: 10 0 10 0;]He had only been standing for a few minutes before he caught the scent of another. Yellow eyes scanned the gloom, but he heard him before he saw him. The beast was making a great deal of splashing, breaking the melancholy silence that gripped these lands. Before long the other came into view, a grey stallion by the looks of it. With one inhale Maddeus could tell he was dead; the intoxicating tang of life did not ride on his scent. He watched with a steady gaze as the brute clambered onto the island, and now in the faint light Maddeus could see that the other could not see at all - only black sockets remained where he most likely once had eyes.
Ears swiveled forward as the cadavre spoke. "Dead, yes," he replied, "For now." With that his eyes slowly moved to where the other stood in the shadows, a female by her scent. And living too, he could practically feel her heart beat. It was loud and almost unnatural in this quiet place. He seemed to have forgotten how vivacious living things are, he had been existing in the quiet stillness of death for some time now. Living things were hard to come by these days, and killing birds and rabbits were not even enough to warm his belly, let alone restart his heart.

He turned back to the male, now called Jakren, and regarded the smirk on the corpse's face with an undecided emotion. "I'm Maddeus," he replied bluntly, yellow eyes glittering in the murk. He could feel the power radiating from the other stallion, but there was something different about it. It felt like they were similar, but not entirely the same. The dead faction has chosen Maddeus as their deity, he had demonstrated the incredible destruction he was capable of with a single thought. He figured it was probably out of fear that they worshiped him. Perhaps this stallion, this Jakren, had been chosen as the deity of another faction? This was about as far as thinking went for Maddeus, he was not overly intelligent and did not ask too many questions. Still, curiosity had gripped him. "You're like me, aren't you," he asked Jakren, not being very specific but referring to what they were, in essence. They had called him a deity, is that what they were?

Eyes drifted to find the female again. She was well hidden in the shadows, she must be small, but he could still tell she was there because of the whole living thing. It was like she was a blazing source of heat and scent, impossible to ignore. Maddeus could feel her power too, but once again it was very different from his. Hers felt raw and, well, alive. His very bones ached with hunger as he breathed in her scent again, and he shook his head to clear it.
"Come out little girl, I won't bite," he offered, his tone almost playful. He ground his teeth a little, the multiple layers of triangular teeth sliding against each other dryly. He rarely opened his mouth, except to talk, and even then his lips covered the mess that lay beneath them. His teeth were constantly rotating, the front ones falling out and new ones coming up behind. An endless conveyor belt of razor-sharp teeth that were all uniform in shape, not designed like a wolf or cat's but instead like a shark. He did not know what a shark was, but he didn't mind having the teeth. They could take quite a nice chunk of flesh out, if he so desired.

As his words faded into the silence he cocked a foot to rest on it. He felt mostly at ease with these strangers, but then again he did not fear much. He could not die, except for fire, and as far as he knew not even he could produce that.

table credit `` columba of on the edge![/style]

[Jakren]

to kiss my lips will leave you cold tonight
you'll need my blood

[/size][/center]

”Dead yes. For now… I’m Maddeus” The stallion nodded at the name, giving no further acknowledgement till he asked, ”You're like me, aren't you?” The lithe nexk swiveled back to face the fellow deity, eyeless sockets seemed to peer on the brute, but he saw nothing. Not even the comfort of shadows. Instead sound simply echoed rather loudly through his skull. ”Yes. We are Deities.” He didn’t offer much explanation as to why, he himself wasn’t for certain how he had become one. He could feel fear around others when they saw him, like a thick fog or the chocking smoke from fire. They moved away from him without saying much. He had encountered a few curious young stallions that thought they could come and reach at his face, prod at his empty lifeless frame but they had quickly vanished when he caught one within his awkward grasp and devoured a massive chunk from his shoulder. It had at least freaked them out enough to leave him to his peace.

Jakren’s wondering mind was pulled to attention quickly though. He looked with empty eyes away into the distance, the sensation of another of their kind reached him. Perhaps it was just his rather over sensitive hearing, but the power that came from the other spoke differently. But no, there. He could feel her heart, pulsing and throbbing rapidly in a small chest, veins pumping lifeblood through perfect little veins. What would the blood of a fellow deity taste like? Saliva pooled in his skinless jaws, dripping as far back as his cheek bones. It was nothing he tried to hide, he had no shame for his desires. Of course it was sure to disgust any that saw his hunger and desire, but he had to keep peace for now. No reason to spark up a war now with those of her faction. Oh how we was struggling to control himself. He heard the other stallion speak, and a violent shiver pulsed across his torn and mangled body. Come out little girl, I won't bite,” He chuckled, it was an awkward and dark sound, throaty and strangled as it tried to escape the downpour of saliva.

”I can attempt to offer the same promise…” ”but your blood smells too damn good…” The afterthought rang through his rather hollow skull. Ragged and rough voice still held the snarl of his laugh, but he was focused now on the pulse of the living deity; wondering if she would stay hidden in the shadows or come to play with her fellow kin.

ooc; sorreh I had to go but I wanted to post something up x.x

with your neck, I'll kiss you violently
pull away from this embrace before it's too late

[/size][/center]

[vor]

I've been watching the time slip by me
Losing track has never been hard

THINKING




ooc: INCOMPLETE&&sorry for the incredibly late post... School got in the way with all its bs, lol.