self-imposed exile ..}

You sit on a large boulder, exhaling deeply before examining the tattered map you had brought with you. It was absolutely unreadable, since you had accidentally fallen into a river and been carried away into the lake that you had just crawled out of. To say you were rattled was a bit of an understatement! Tossing the soaking map into the dirt nearby, you looked up at the starry sky. How will I get home now? You ask silently, or not so silently, since you got a reply.

-"I can show you the way." Startled, you look to your right. Nothing there but the banks of the river. Turning your head to the left, you see a tall, jet black stallion standing. His bright blue eyes seem to stare right into you, with a bit of amusement glimmering within. His blue mane had an almost violet tint to it, even in the darkness, as did his luxurious tail. His voice was deep, though had a raw quality that made you wonder if he didn't speak much. You must have been staring for some time, as the muscular stallion inclined his head slightly and spoke once more.-"Or would you rather spend the night here? With the bugs, the bears, wolves, cougars-"

-"Could you..?" You ask, hesitantly. The stallion gives a slight smile, but it is awkward. Once again, you wonder if it has been a while since he has done that.

-"Of course. I'm not one to go back on an offer. This way." He whirls around, his step certain, his ears perked forward. The equine's muscles ripple with every movement, and you wonder if there is some kind of equine steroid going around.. He would have to do a lot of exercise to build up that kind of muscle. Only then did you look at your surroundings.

The trees of the forest stand intimidatingly above you, the branches reaching out as though yearning for the moonlight's caress. Bushes and various other kinds of shrubbery rest at their trunks, their leaves sparkling even in such dim light. Tens, hundreds, thousands (you weren't about to count) of fireflies fluttered about. It was as though they were too attached to the forest to leave its boundaries, a few brave ones flitting a few feet into the clearing you were in before whizzing back to the safety of the trees. The stallion is walking away, now.

Do you follow?

profile ..}

CALL SIGN• Talon
GENDER• Stallion {Male}
AGE• Adult {about 5-7 years}
SPECIES• Equine
PHYSIQUE• Muscular, but not stocky
PAINT• Shadow
KIN• None known
BELOVED• None
DESIRE• Unknown....
ALLIES• Passion, Rishima
ENEMIES• Many.

his tale ..}

Talohnn was born in a small herd on the outskirts of a massive mountain range, in one of its cozy valleys. They lived well enough, but had to migrate in the autumn to their winter grounds at the base of one of the mountains due to the harsh conditions. Talohnn was born solid black, with not a single patch marring his ebon coat. He was not talkative or extremely social, tending to keep at his mother's side or at his father's heels.

This concerned his parents deeply, not sure what to make of their seemingly brooding son. His mother dismissed it, unable to think ill of her first and only foal. She was especially protective of him to the other mares, who sometimes mocked her son for being 'shy' or 'fragile.' Talohnn's father, on the other hand, couldn't handle the gossip about his first-born son. Determined to improve his standing in the herd, he tried suggesting his son mingle with the other colts more often. When Talohnn acted too awkward around the others, they were quick to ignore him. His father was angered, but Talohnn's mother managed to console him and keep the anger directed elsewhere, not wanting her son to know his father's rejection.

Silence does not mean deafness. Talohnn, even at such a young age, was much more alert than others were aware. He played dumb, pretending that he was oblivious to what the others thought.

One morning, he was not even quite a yearling yet, Talohnn had left early in the morning for a drink from a nearby brook. He often stole away in the young hours of the day for some time by himself. He was always sharp to return just before the rest of the herd would wake. Just as he finished gulping down his fill, he lifted his head up, water dribbling off of his muzzle and onto the rocks beneath his hooves. Turning to return home, he felt a small sting on his shoulder, and then saw nothing.

He had been captured by an agent from a group known only as the Alliance. The colt would celebrate his first birthday in a military-style group. They had managed to align the young male to their cause, using excessive force whenever he balked. In time, he could no longer remember the scent of the dew of morning grass, he could not recall the feeling of his mother's muzzle as she greeted him every morning, he could not even remember his father's disapproving gaze.

Talohnn was trained to be an assassin, to carry out hits for the enigmatic organization who were in involved in essentially every war - yet never fought for only one side. They might provide supplies for one army, but take out a leading figure for their enemy. In a twisted way, the Alliance was neutral.

Talohnn would grow to be one of the most powerful assassins, eventually becoming the Master Assassin; his record was so untarnished. He was taught in virtually every field. The stallion knew how to take out ten warhorses without breaking a sweat, understood exactly how to kill and make it look like it was of natural causes, he knew politics - could even bargain his way out of nearly every situation. He could be anything the Alliance wanted him to be, and was considered their crowning achievement.

His appearance is a result of it. His mane was dyed - as was his front right leg - to signify his standing. An upside-down triangle was added beneath his left eye to celebrate his ascent to Master Assassin.

It was a routine mission, but hopes were, as always, high. The goal was to silence the stallion who called himself Nitro, and kill his progeny - three colts. Nothing out of the ordinary. Talohnn was ready, as he always was. He moved silently, and it was as though the shadows were even on his side; the way they draped about his ebon form like a cloak. He came from nowhere, tearing at the roan male with his teeth and well-aimed hooves. Just before he was to deliver the final blow, he saw one of the colts standing right in front of them, staring at his bleeding father and the stallion who was at fault. The typically controlled stallion, to put it simply, froze. For what felt like hours, but was really only a moment or so, their eyes locked. He saw true innocence, and – for the first time – wondered if what he did, the killing, was wrong. Who was he to decide the fates of others? Was he meant to try and play God?

That moment was all Nitro needed. Slamming his body into Talohnn with the little energy he had left, he knocked the other off of his feet and managed to gain the upper hand.

Talohnn was barely able to escape with his life. Nitro and his sons lived.

Talohnn had failed the Alliance for the first, and last, time.

He fled. He had no other choice, for they would kill him for his 'betrayal.' And flee he would.

He runs, still, today. He has no news on the Alliance, for it retreated into even further secrecy – he had no idea it was even possible – and he had no ties within. His, once inferior, peers would not hesitate on the one they envied so. He could defend himself easily enough, but now avoids violence at all costs.

It is unlikely Talohnn will ever live a single day without having to look over his shoulder.