Phantastico
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|  Onderwerp: Seasons go and seasons come, steady as the beating drum vr 24 aug 2012 - 21:42 | |
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Sabel
No dreams within her heart but dreams of love
her story
relatives
Father: Unknown
Mother: Unknown
Siblings: Rasha, Cynir
Mate: Adelheid
Offspring: None
Loved ones: None
Friends: Grimoire, E'vesdar
Knows: Theron, Templed, Elibrae, Torak
* Italic and dark grey means passed away
On a warm day in the middle of summer, a tiny little foal was born to the alphas of a small herd. The foal was creamy colored, with the white mane and tail of a palomino. As she grew, it was clear she would be small all her life, and this concerned her father, a sooty dun stallion with powerful eyes. He worried she would not live long, that she would be a sickly little filly and no stallions would ever want to mate with her. As the lead stallion’s daughter, it was her duty to live up to his expectations, and he would not accept failure. Sabel’s mother, a cremello mare whom the herd viewed as an ethereal angel, was a tender and caring mare. She nurtured her little foal and showered her with love, telling her mate that their daughter would not fail them.
Months passed, and Sabel grew, but not as quickly as the other foals born around the same time as she. Her friends rough-housed and raced over hilltops while she stumbled slowly along behind them, trying desperately to keep up with the others. She was left behind more often than not, though, and it made her feel like she was not good enough for anyone except her mother. One day, something changed her life entirely. She fell asleep beneath a weeping willow tree, beside a small stream that trickled along nearby. As she napped, she was unaware that the stream possessed magical qualities, and that it was slowly working its charm on her. While she slept, her glistening white mane and tail changed to an inky black color, and smoky spots subtly appeared upon her palomino coat. Stripes etched their way across her legs, leaving them brindled and splotched on her small body. When she awoke, the golden eyes of a predator stared at her reflection in the stream in horror.
When she returned to the herd, the others were terrified of her. Her father reared up and drove her away, while her mother, shocked and frozen in place, could only watch. Her mother no longer recognized her, and was afraid of this strange new filly who had appeared. Sabel was forced to leave or be struck down by her own father. Her parents later believed that the speckled filly had murdered their own dear palomino daughter. Sabel wandered off and stayed a safe distance away from her herd, skirting them along in the distance, never too far from them. She trailed and shadowed her herd for the next few months, growing up and maturing on her own. She learned to keep herself company with her thoughts, as she had no one else to talk to and lived a life of forced solitude. The herd eyed her suspiciously, but allowed her to trail along if she didn’t venture too near. They believed she was a cursed horse who brought darkness and chaos with her wherever she went, but she fought her hardest not to believe that. Time passed like that, with the spotted mare always haunting them in the distance.
Years passed, and one day Sabel found the courage to try returning to her herd. She had grown into a graceful mare, elegant and beautiful. She moved like an exotic predator, but had the air of charm that endeared her to all who laid eyes upon her. The herd looked at her in awe when she returned and walked among them. They were hypnotized by her enchanting beauty, held spellbound by her golden gaze. Her mother and father saw her, but still did not recognize her for who she truly was – their long lost daughter. She wanted to tell them who she was, to make them remember, but nothing she did would convince them. They still believed she was cursed and had murdered their daughter years before. They had had more foals since her loss, though, and had replaced the hole she’d left with the new foals. Her siblings, Rasha and Cynir, did not know her, for they’d never seen her before. Her family did not want her, even if the herd thought she was beautiful and divine now. It broke Sabel’s heart, and she turned away from the hateful expressions of her parents and galloped away. She didn’t stop at the edge of the herd’s territory that time, though; she let her legs carry her as far away as they could, leading her away from the disappointment and heartbreak that was all she had ever known.
Many nights and many days saw the spotted mare running from a past she could never hide from. She came across many other herds, all who admired her beauty but did not sincerely care about who she was. She did not feel welcomed in any of them, and so her journey continued. She never was sure what she was searching for, a home, a friend, or just something to erase all the pain from yesterday. She grew lean and muscled, built for speed and stealth in her wanderings. She was truly a blend of predator and noble beast after months of exercise and travel. She wore herself out, though, and one day she simply collapsed of exhaustion, falling in a graceful pile on the grassy slope of a hill. She fell asleep, but when she woke horses were gathered around her, staring intrigued at her unique coat.
The herd took her in and nurtured her back to good health, treating her kindly and warmly. Sabel had never felt such care from others before, and it made her feel as if she never had – accepted. She regained her strength and began to live with the herd, thinking she’d finally found a home. She made friends with another mare, a black with emerald colored eyes that were warm and lovable. Her name was Grimoire, and she made sure Sabel felt at home and kept her company. She was the only friend Sabel had ever had, and she trusted her with her story. The two were tightly bonded and inseparable not long after Sabel arrived.
The happiness was short-lived though, for one day the herd’s leader, who had always looked upon the spotted mare with a consuming desire, took Sabel apart from the others and attempted to seduce her. Sabel wasn’t sure what the stallion, whose name was Q’ahera, wanted from her, and so she was very confused. Frustrated, Q’ahera forced himself upon her. Grimoire heard the scene from a distance, and raced to help her friend, though she never would have been able to guess what was wrong. It was too late to stop the stallion by the time Grimoire arrived, but she was fiercely angry and pawed the air at the leader. Sabel, weakened after what had occurred, stumbled away.
Q’ahera killed Grimoire that day, and Sabel galloped away from the herd, though she was slower due to her injuries. She never saw any of them again, and she felt betrayed by that lead stallion who had seemed so kind at first. She lost her only friend that day. Pain and sadness were only companions for a time after that. The only good thing that had happened was the blessing that she had not become pregnant later on. Sabel would not have been able to care for a foal on her own, nor was she strong enough to do so without a family to help her. She would likely have perished if things had worked out otherwise. Sabel returned to travelling after that, returning to her thoughts for company. She was afraid to get too close to any of the herds she came across, unsure if they would betray her as well. Eventually, another year passed. She finally came upon Blue Moon, and though she was still weary of others, she had been alone long enough that she decided to give a herd another shot.
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Vestain
The mighty who have fallen, and
the fallen who would be mighty
his story
relatives
Father: Faquir
Mother: Egrette
Siblings: None
Mate: Delaney, Serice
Offspring: Irhaydon
Loved ones: None yet
Friends: Cozure
Knows: Souixsie, Kratos, Dierdre
* Italic and dark grey means passed away
Vestain’s beginning was a rocky one, riddled with loss and cold-heartedness, loss and pain. His father was a very possessive and demanding stallion; Faquir was the name he answered to. The stallion maintained an icy gaze over his herd, vigilant but silent in his watch. He was not the best at showing affection due to his belief that emotions were a weakness that could be exploited by one’s enemies. He was a hard stallion, but he meant well deep down inside. His standoff nature was very difficult for Vestain’s mother to tolerate, though. She was Egrette, a blood bay mare with a shapely body, beautiful to all who gazed upon her, and soft-spoken. Her gentle heart made her extremely sensitive and vulnerable, though, and that became her undoing. She longed for love and affection from Faquir, but she never received all that she needed to feel cherished and loved. She was a lonely and sad mare, who had believed having a foal of her own would solve all of her problems and insecurities. She hadn’t counted on Vestain looking so much like his father, though, or for him to have much of the same personality. Her little foal received her love, but was not very good at returning it, even though he wanted to. Vestain took the best qualities of both of his parents, making him strong and secretive, yet still compassionate and warm when he wanted to be.
Egrette continued to feel unhappy as her foal grew to be more and more like his father, aloof and weary of her overwhelming adoration for him. One day, Egrette simply walked away from her son and disappeared forever. Her departure seemed to Faquir to only be a reassurance of his beliefs that the ones who loved you always destroyed you in the end. He felt betrayed, and grew even colder than he had been in the beginning. He did his best to raise Vestain, but he imbued the traits of silence, obedience, and caution into his son more than those of empathy and trust. Vestain became very similar to his father, learning it was better not to feel anything at all in order to protect oneself. He always felt that he was still a disappointment in his father’s eyes, though, having never received a single word of praise or smile of approval for his efforts. It hardened his heart til the colt was gravely serious, and his childhood friends no longer enjoyed his company.
When Vestain was three years old, Faquir encouraged him to leave home and make a life for himself. Vestain, having learned obedience, simply followed his father’s command and struck out on his own. He traveled across the lands, seeing strange places and odd faces along the way, but never finding anything in particular that caught his fancy. He did not know how to feel about things, so he never felt compelled to stay somewhere simply because he liked it, or enjoyed it. His childhood training drove him onward in search of a worthy cause. He happened upon two horses battling, one day, for what he was not sure. He walked closer to them and observed the duel, wondering what the point of it was. The two stallions fought until finally the chestnut with coppery shine to his coat and flaming eyes appeared victorious. He trumpeted his success and then spied Vestain observing. The chestnut challenged Vestain to a duel, and Vestain decided to accept. The two fought until Vestain finally grew weary and surrendered. The other stallion, by the name of Cozure, was impressed with Vestain’s talent nevertheless, and invited him to come along with him, back to his home.
Cozure was an assassin, and had been raised and trained by an elite group of assassins since his birth. He had been taken away from his family as a foal and had never known love from another horse as a result of that and his training. The superiors had sent him out to recruit new members, and though Vestain was older than than usually preferred to begin training, they saw his potential. Vestain underwent intensive training to learn the art of killing, and how to be stealthy and aware of his surroundings. He became friends with Cozure, who was soon to be his mentor. Time passed, and Vestain was sent on numerous hits, proving he could perform them to satisfaction. Cozure was proud of his student, and that was the first time Vestain realized he was good enough for somebody. It made him train harder and perform his tasks with precision and efficiency. Life had become a routine of training, killing, and then more training, but Vestain enjoyed the simplicity. He didn’t have to think much, and he was finally good at something. He never wondered about all the horses he had killed – he did not feel guilt about it. He did not believe he was the one at fault. Whomever had hired his superiors was the true killer, while he was merely a tool. That was how all the assassins felt about their work.
Things changed one day, though. Vestain was sent on a hit to kill a stallion, but on his way to perform the deed, the stallion’s scouts captured him. He was led to the target, who had been expecting an assassin to come for him. He had many enemies, all who wanted him dead. The stallion saw Vestain’s talents though, and decided to give him an ultimatum: he could either stay and marry the stallion’s daughter, or he would be killed. The stallion wanted to be able to use Vestain’s foals as his own personal assassins in the future, and Vestain knew that was all he wanted from him. Not wanting to die, though, he reluctantly agreed to the marriage. Serice was a dappled palomino mare, thin and elegant, but sublime. Vestain saw that she was beautiful, but he felt nothing for her emotionally. They entered into the marriage and both were unhappy. Serice wanted Vestain to love her, while Vestain was unable to do so. All the emotions in him had been trained out, lost in a void. Her performed his duties, but that was all. Serice’s father began employing Vestain as a personal assassin shortly after the marriage, giving Vestain something to concentrate on other than his lonely mate. He did not know how to comfort her, but he wished she would find something to do, or find joy.
Serice did find happiness when their first foal was born. Young Irhaydon was the spitting image of his mother, and took mostly after her as well. Vestain returned from a mission to find his son, and suddenly emotion returned to him. He felt an overwhelming love for the little foal, and longed to be the father to him that he never had. Faquir would never know he had a grandson, but Vestain did not mind that at all. He did not want his son to grow up to be cold and calculating as both his father and grandfather were. The chance in Vestain was pleasing to Serice. He began to feel more for her, though not exactly love. He wasn’t capable of that emotion for anyone other than his son. Vestain vowed not to let Irhaydon become like he was. When Serice’s father discovered his grandson, he was thrilled to have a foal to begin training. He longed to start his own league of assassins, starting with the golden foal. He had the foal taken away from his mother when Vestain was away.
When Vestain learned of this capture, he returned home in a fervor of emotion. Serice was dead when he arrived, having committed suicide after losing her only foal. Vestain felt remorse for not being there to stop the entire situation from happening. He left in search of his son and Serice’s father. It didn’t take long to find the area where his son had been taken, a cave a bit away from the herd. When Vestain arrived, Serice’s father refused to let him in. It was part of their agreement, he said, and Vestain was breaking it. When Vestain told him that his daughter had committed suicide, the stallion could not believe it. He went mad, lashing out at Vestain and disappearing inside the cave. Vestain charged after him, but he did not know the tunnels and caverns. He heard screaming in the distance, and followed the echoes through the maze. He finally came to a cavern painted in blood. Moving closer, he saw the shattered body of his little Irhaydon, now lifeless and cold. Vestain knew an indescribable pain that day, a loss that ruined him. He did not know what to do with himself for a few moments. He had lost his son and his mate, all that he had ever felt was truly his. He vowed to find Serice’s father then, and avenge her and his son.
Vestain returned to where he had been trained as an assassin, and sought out his old mentor Cozure. He told his only friend what had happened to him, the abduction, his deal with Serice’s father, and all about the death and pain. Cozure nodded grimly, feeling sorry for his friend. The two went off together in search of the mad stallion. It took them many months to track his down, but when they did, they wrenched Vestain’s just revenge right out of the other stallion’s chest, killing him the way they were trained to. They made his death slow and painful, rather there quick and easy. Vestain finally felt the taste of absolution, but afterwards, he was not sure what to do with himself anymore. Cozure told him to come back with him and go back to work, that it was what he was meant for. Vestain almost agreed, but then he remembered Irhaydon, and the love he had felt for him. He longed to have that back, and to find a home. His killing days were over.
Cozure understood, wished him well, and the two parted ways. Vestain began journeying again, looking for a place that welcomed him in its arms. He wandered into Blue Moon, having heard of the curse that wreaked havoc upon the land, and thought he might be able to help the horses there. He knew how to kill, how to fight, but most importantly of all, he wanted to protect. He had never had something that had felt worth protecting before his son, and his failure to protect him drove Vestain to prove he would fail again. Now, he resides in Blue Moon, seeking out ways to fulfill his longing for a home, and his desire to protect what was worth fighting for.
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Laatst aangepast door Phantastico op vr 14 sep 2012 - 1:54; in totaal 8 keer bewerkt |
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