Post by steph on May 9, 2009 13:48:00 GMT -5
M A S Q U E R A D E
[/color]I do not curve to please the waters. The waters curve to please me. [/color][/center]
Nostrils flared and harks swiveled in all directions as the black bulk moved forward. His muscles contracted with every stride and his orbs shown with their brilliant blue coloring. As he passed creatures stared, he was a stallion that had never been seen in these parts of the world and one that blended in with the night sky. His sleek black coat shone with the mixture of sweat and salt water, and his main was tangled from the winds lashings. Who was this new comer? What was his purpose? And how did he get here?
Masquerade. It was a name that many respected and awed. He was a great leader and one with the water. Even more so now than ever he was considered royalty, for he had blood on his paws; Typhoon the bay stallion who had been feared by all was killed at the hands of his youngest son. The equines of Typhoons land where astonished by Masquerade’s talents and strong will, but he did not care for them. They had done nothing for him or his brothers when they were banished by his father, they had followed in the bay’s footsteps and to him they were just as dead.
Shaking his sleek arabian head the ebony stallion slowed to a walk. His breath was labored and he was beginning to tier. His travel had amounted too three weeks. Vanyatma, his old home was far from Nyore Valley, which was just what this young brute was going for. Blowing out air through his nostrils, Masquerade stopped and regained his bearings. He could smell the spices of the equines of the valley, and he tried to familiarize himself with them, weeding out the stallions from the mares, the weak from the strong and the young from the old. He knew that the land ahead of him did not hold as many equines as Vanyatma but he didn’t mind. He wanted a place where he could thrive and make a name for himself without the overcastting name of his dead father. With a low grunt, the brute leaped into a strong canter, he would arrive at Nyroe Valley before dawn.{Time Break}
As the sun broke over the horizon, Masquerade entered Nyore Valley. The wind blew his wild main and he extended his elegant arabian neck to feel the coolness. The sky was overcastted with clouds and a sense of easy ran through the brute’s veins, it would start to rain soon, and the sound of the drops hitting the earth soothed the brutes mind. Trotting forward Masquerade moved towards the land of the water equines. He could sense their power and it caused the calm to be replaced with determination and excitement.
As he crossed into the land, his thorns found the sound of a running river and his limbs carried him to the beloved noise. As he walked Masquerade took in all the smells, concentrating the most on the equines. These would be the ones vital to his life here. There was one scent he was looking for that the brute didn’t find that of a dominant male. But try as he might there was no scent of a high testosterone level. The brute began to mull this thought over and he came to an idea that suited him well. He had been a leader before why not become one now. This was the perfect opportunity to finally be his own name and be rid of his fathers. With a surge of power Masquerade lifted himself on his hind legs and let out a dominating vocal.
"You king has come, and you will now bow."