Demonic? I'll Show You Demonic...

[gotmilk812]

Satan’s Czar


Do You Dare to Gamble with the Devil,
Dance with Fate,
Mess With a Demon,
Or Accept My Challenge?

Thunder radiated from the Earth's crust, shaking anything and everything in sight. Yet how is that possible? This was no ordinary storm, this was much more spectacular…

Feel it coming in the air
Hear the screams from everywhere
I’m addicted to the the thrill
It’s a dangerous love affair
Can’t be scaring nickels down
Got a problem, tell me now
Only thing that’s on my mind
Is who gon’ run this town tonight


Over the horizon, a large dark figure ate the ground beneath him, taking more and more with each long stride. Leaving dents where hooves once filled, only split seconds ago. The stag did not run in fear, nor panic, but in pride and strength. Crown set high above his large charcoal bodice, high reaching into the skies over head. While others minds might be racing about if they too had the task at hand, his was not. It was set upon one thing and only that task, it would wander in his cranium until it was complete. Whipcord thrashing behind him as parasites would upon entering a host, mane rearing up, striking at the wind as it hoisted itself from his nape. Crested with pride he strode on deeper and deeper into the darkness, a smile crept onto his maw, he was home.

Life’s a game but it’s not fair
I break the rules so I don’t care
So I keep doing my own thing
Walking tall against the rain
Victory’s within the mile
Almost there, don’t give up now
Only thing that’s on my mind
Is who gon’ run this town tonight


The setting sun caused the sky to streak blood red, a harsh contrast to the darkening landscape around. The stag came to rest atop a large hill that overlooked majority of the territory that he was determined to make his, it would be his if he had anything to say about it. Bodice glistening in the fading light he stood quietly, motionless, first taking in the scenery that lay before his hooves. How he craved it. He had enough of waiting. With one swift motion he hoisted his great bodice into the sky and let out a piercing call of dominance, of challenge. The shrill whinny echoed over the land, whirling in the shadows as it faded. Now he waited to see if anyone challenged his claim to this land.

For If Thy Accept My Challenge,
Then You May Really See Just How
Demonic I Can Be...

{Lyrics in middle- Run this town tonight- Jay-Z and Rihanna}

[Demmy]

nasty nasty nasty NASTY. that simple word, short and succinct, yet oh so descriptive. and whom? might you ask does this deliciously descriptive word describe? why your very own Taboo, of course. don't be so silly. clean limbs stretch forth, primitive markings flashing in autumn sun. white hooves are turned dirty brown, the thick mud coating their purity, mimicking their host's soul. said flints slip slightly, splaying left and right before being jerked sharply back into place. Taboo mutters dark curses, amber optics flecked in vague irritation, skunked tassels lashing his hindquarters in an outlet for his frustration. upon arriving full circle (well, almost) back into these lands described by his mother so long ago, he had pressed forward, drawn by an indefinable, un-seeable force towards a giant pit. the terrain was crushed into the bowels of the earth, it's edges fringed in deep forest, nobeast land, the forest your father tells you scary stories about, to keep you close at hoof. of course, this particular brute would know nothing of a father's bedside stories. a violent scuffle, wracking, rending pain and then ... he had been born, sliding into this world of chaotic disguise, a land perpetrated by the putrid purity (try and say that five times fast) of those who aligned themselves with the ... light. the word is processed through the drake's cranium, following the lighted corridors in winding, twisting turns, before being set upon by guarded sentries. light. just the single word was disgusting, a taboo of sorts, not to be uttered into this world, as if it's single syllable could wreak utter havoc in the world of darkness. hah. as if.

his mother had been kerberos, the latest descendant of the line of demise, once the greatest king of darkness, now a bleaching pile of bones. of course, she had spoken quite reverently in his formative weeks (i say weeks because she did not survive past his twelfth one, her body torn and shattered by the horrors of this world), of his grandfather, demise. of course, a scoffing Taboo had scorned the thought of a beast so great, unable to believe another could be "darker" than he, even at the ripe old age of two months. of course to voice this particular opinion would have been blasphemy in the eyes of his mother, so he had bid his time. shortly after his birth, his mother had fallen, stricken, unable to rise. dutifully he had fed and watered her, reversing the traditional roles. in order for him to sustain himself, he had to sustain her. it was a simple matter of survival, for affection had been found severely wanting between mother and son. he was the product of a rape, a violent betrayal of his mother's long-disappeared soul mate, a ... marius? yes. a brief nod pulls the brute from his reverie, on the heels of his thoughts a shattering scream, drawn from the depths of a massive brute, no doubt. oh no you will NOT!

clattering footsteps, a swift four beats, brings the grulla paint into view of the other, a brutish black beast, obviously bent on claiming his ancestor's territory for his own. without hesitation, neck cords bulge and contract, vocal cords vibrating in violent definition, larynx pressing forth a most unearthly challenge. muzzle peels back in pent-up anger, forehand musculature tensed as the call continues. finally, the piercing cry fades off, those it's echoes continue to ricochet off the cavernous, hollow walls of the pit. his pit. he would not allow this outsider to claim the throne of darkness. it was his and his alone. and he would fight until his dying breath for the right to call himself king. it's a matter of principle, son. satisfied that the other had heard his scream, grayed forelegs strike forth, a few steps before halting, pools held intently upon the other, mind calculating carefully his next move. peripherals stay on high alert, pelt twitching in anticipation, unwilling to be caught of guard, should this other already have minions to do his dirty work. a brief thought, maw parts, stained incisors revealed, preceding rough lyrics. voice is sandpaper, drug over a rough rock, husky in tone, quiet, yet far-reaching in it's depth. you rang? tones are sardonic, mocking, the serial killer perusing his jagged, dirty fingernails, just before dragging his serrated blade across the victim's throat. leave, before it's too late. the pit is mine, brute. of course Taboo was playing his cards quite deftly. either way, he would be king, be it by draw of fate, or draw of blood. sweet, simple, and to the point ...

[gotmilk812]

The call of another, a shrill and winy one at that he pondered whether to find the owner or just let him come to his own fate. Czar stood patiently waiting to hear the pound of beats rise closer to his form. Squaring his pillars he stretched his back and stood his full height. Nape naturally arching, a bulging line ran from his pole through out his whole bodice. Peeling his lips back to a smirk he flicked his ears holding his ground waiting. Orbs gleamed with contentment whilst keeping an alert look for his challenger; he knew this was time to show what he was made of.

This land was fitting and he will be King of Darkness, he knew that it ran deep through his own veins. Just because his history did not entwine with this particular world, it was a mess in others. He is the single living heir of Duke of Darkness, a brute that committed numerous devilish acts. As they say the apple does not fall far from the tree, well Czar had only went up from the tree. He was such a menace in his younger years the herd would make him run with the other stags, instead of the other foals. There had been an ‘accident’ one day and that is using the term loosely. Czar had only been maybe a couple months old; another colt had taken the last apple and well Czar asked him if he wanted to fight for it. It’s not his fault the colt took the challenge. He wasn’t planning to take it to the extent it ran, his mind just fogged, muscles tensed and sprang. The colt was horribly mangled; the other mares banished him then on. Secretly he loved it. Being the only yearling allowed to run wild with his elders, stand beside them in combat, rule over the broods. He craved it.

Though not all life was perks, true he was admitted into brute standings early, but that meant he was banished earlier. He could fend for him self and was sent out to write his own history. Many years have passed since then, now it was time to write a new chapter to his history and start his legacy…

Can’t be scaring nickels down
Got a problem, tell me now
Only thing that’s on my mind
Is who gon’ run this town tonight

The one that entered before him was impressive; he had to give him that. But that will only get you so far in life. You speak like you own it already. Yet there be no claim before mine to it… so you must think it’s your birth right? Well only if it was that simple we’d all have a hell of a lot better lives now wouldn’t we? these were his first words to this brute and he didn’t regret it one bit. He took a step forward; grinned, and hissed into the brute’s ear they deem me Satan’s Czar and I intent to wage war until only one stands. And I will be that one. You could see the entire spread of his blood stained pearls, fangs protruding from the smirk that was of so comfortable on his mug. He was determined; mind set and that’s a hard thing to change. Talons pressed deeper in the soft mud of The Pit; haunches curled underneath ready to strike back if need be. He gave a look to the other brute, one of daring speech, it said: You're not getting rid of me that easily...

[Demmy]

Dearest Satan's Czar,

Kindly join me in Combat Cave. There I shall wait, there I shall succeed.

In blood,
Taboo