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take . this . curse . off . me
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There are those stories that can make you feel happy.
You can rejoice in the hero's deeds, the way the villains make you want to crawl under your covers and hide away; the way that somehow, deep down, you just know that good will always pull through. That it always overcomes the evil in the far-away land.
You may enjoy pirates, or dragons, or captured maidens. Castles and riches, or dungeons and shadows. Magic existing in the very fabric of the tale.
Perhaps you fancy knights? Those gallant figures, striding off into the battlefield to face forces of evil unknown, to defend their homeland from the barbarians seeking to invade.
Shining armor, clashing swords, the threat of danger at every turn.
...Then again, there are those stories, and then there is this one.
Yes, this is about a knight. Though, a different kind of knight, you see. One that does not rescue princesses, or slay vicious beasts for the village they swore to protect--no. In fact, this is a very different tale. A tale that is as ancient as the legends you hear over the crackling of flames, snug in your bed--it may just be even older than those. This story stretches back years and years ago, back to a time when many people were clamoring over religion, and their deep fears for it.
This tale does indeed have an ending, but it is not a heroic one. It does involve a certain knight, and though he is neither honorable or gallant, he is legendary.
...Yes, there are the happy stories, and then there are the hidden stories; the stories that chill the blood. Anyone who reads this story will soon realize that good does not always conquer evil; that love is not the strongest force. A rather depressing story, yes, but it must be told.
It must be told because it is all he has to his name.
It is all that he will ever be.
Stat Chart
Registered Name: ColdRage
Alias: Rage
Gender: male
Vitals: 'hollow' dead
Neopets age: 54914
Age: died at 18 years.
Breed: Lippizaner
Love: no.
Foals: no.
Parents: deceased
Herd: none.
Personality: wicked, spiteful, wild, cold-blooded, violent, gruff
A quick note regarding the condition of his body/soul:
He is, in theory, 'ageless,' though this does not guarantee him immortality. He can be wounded and killed just like anyone else. In essence, he is no more than a body--twisted and torn though it may be, it is still his, and he still has control over it (somewhat). This just means that he will continue to exist unless corporeally destroyed.
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past . life →
1209 A.D. The Aran Valley, Spain.
It was the midst of the Crusades, the holy wars of Christiandom fought to reclaim their Promised Land. Alliances were frayed and tension rang out everywhere in Christian Europe. Confusion and bloodshed went hand in hand; lives were lost everyday, innocent or guilty. The world complete seemed to be in a crazed and dangerous uproar.
But it did not matter an ounce to him.
Rage was born during this time of doubt and ruthlessness, of weapons and conquest. His father was proud to have sired such a strong and handsome son; there was no question that Rage would inherit his father's role of leadership.
The colt grew quickly and, as was the custom, learned battling strategies from his father, who was very pleased to know his son aspired to be a warrior.
Rage's skill grew, along with him, and with each victory his hunger increased--it was a secret to even him, a dark desire within his heart. He dreamed of one day becoming the greatest warrior to ever roam the land. To have enemies fall at his hooves, no matter their strengths--he would overcome them all.
Day after day he practiced, his horn and hooves sharpened to perfection; his agility had been unmatched by anyone so far, and his strength was remarkable. But still, even as his opponents crumpled beneath him, he thirsted for more.
I witnessed this, and oh, how I wanted him to become my trophy! Yes, I saw the gluttony in his eyes, and I nursed it. I gave him new foes to defeat every sunrise, and by nightfall he was declared champion once again.
What better soul to become my servant? He was strong, certainly; though he was very independant. He often wandered by himself for days on end, practicing just like he did as a colt.
This mattered not, said I. And I vowed to break him.
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ensnarement →
I have taken many guises before.
I was the one who dwelt within Cain.
I corrupted Nero's weak mind.
I was with Legion and Belial.
I bent Judas into madness.
I have been called Lucifer before, a sickened flesh.
But just how was I to capture this prize before me? This vessel of strength, Rage, who would one day serve me as a warrior?
I needed to test him. I needed to see just how far his greed of glory would take him.
I sent him one of my Demons--cruel, unyielding, and powerful. It was a behemoth; I fashioned it out of obsidian and flame, and stole the breath from its lips with smoke. It was absolutely horrifying, and it would set the perfect trap.
I sent it as bait--a bait that Rage could not ignore. The demon challenged him to a fight, and in Rage's young arrogance, he accepted without hesitation.
It cost him his life.
Oh, to be fair to that strong warrior, he made a valiant effort to fell the monster that would utlimately lure him to his downfall--and I would watch, and wait, just as I always had when I desired something. My eyes were the darkness that overcame him, and I would see that last glimmer of shock and bestial anger as my demon stabbed his horn into Rage's heart. The blood...so much blood...
And as the light faded from his eyes, the last light ever to be held in them, I came forth from the shadows and granted him a choice.
Your death is imminent, I proclaimed. Die, and be judged at the hands of all you have felled, or join me and become immortal. You will never know life, you will never know death...
And--that wretched, arrogant fool--he had the audacity to spit out at me, while the death rattle shook his body: Never.
...
But since when had the Devil ever played fair?
I took his soul--no, no, body and soul--and I twisted it into a fashion more befitting for my tastes; I kept my word, I made him immortal, but he would lose everything that tethered him to earth. He would lose every connection to every wind, every joy that came with the freedom of grasses, meadows. His eyes would hunt for me now, not for him. He would be mine. He will...always be mine.
Cracked, decaying flesh; dull hooves, blunted horn...he was a thing of terror. He replaced that original demon and smote his ashes--I bridled him with wire and metal in hopes of containing him, but even then he had showed a fiery defiance to his Master...
It was time to test his unwavering servitude to me. And I had plans; I always have plans. He would aid me where the living realm could not give me a form: he would be my right hand, my tool.
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missions →
Such things are meant to be broken, of course.
He served me well up until a certain point--I'm still unsure about what happened to this day; apparently, some insolent little mare had the nerve to sway his opinion. As if he could be swayed! He was mine, and mine alone...He would never belong to something from that revolting world, with its temptations and waters and sky...no. I broke her. Or, rather, I had him do it himself; I merely gave the orders. That unmistakable wanting in his eyes...I drove it out. She died. And I told him, nothing would ever separate us. Not a mare, not the earth. He was to always be mine.
Years passed and turned into centuries. My attentions turned southbound, after I had successfully brewed war in the north. My spies retrieved information on a certain individual supposedly blessed with the powers of foresight. Naturally, I was intrigued, and I investigated the matter myself.
This being was insignificant to me in her mortal form--but it was her gifts that I was more interested in. Her name was Fawnstep, the apparent heir to a long line of ancient telepathic powers. How could this not pique my curiosity? I observed her, day after day, watching as her powers grew and how nations desired her capture, to aid them in battle or such matters. She was safe nowhere, always eluding foolish quests to trap her for a bounty--she really had become quite a legendary figure, and there was probably not one mortal in that world that did not wish to know of their fate. She was hunted not only by the eyes of the living, but the eyes of the dead... my eyes.
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the . oracle →
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Epilogue
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relations →
rp note: (Due to Rage's rather unfriendly nature, he usually is not open to just accepting new friends. He doesn't give his trust that easily.)
Perhaps his most well-known adversary is the charming Rochir, a stallion who has harbored a deep rivalry with the warrior. Their repulsion for each other can be counted years back, but it is unclear exactly how they met, and how the feud started. Rage despises Rochir and has on several attempts battled him, but to no avail--they are very evenly matched in skill.
It's no real surprise that Rage loathes the oracle; his attempts at capturing her have proved unsuccessful so far. He eyes her nothing more as a tool, just as his master taught him to--though, supposedly, he may also desire her in spite of himself.
Ages ago, the tattered stallion may have claimed love for a certain mare. He was ordered to dispose of her, and he obliged--but her death destroyed whatever goodness he had left in him. The memories they shared have been all but erased in his tainted mind, and now she visits him only in restless dreams.
Larysa is a foil to Rage if there ever was one. Where he is cruel and bitter, she is regal and kind, always looking out for the Moonlight Herd. In his dark heart, he finds a frail respect for the way she leads her family and friends...but he would never pass up the chance to tear her from her throne.
Bitter competition surrounds Rochir and Rage, but there is nothing but pure hatred between him and Ghost. As Fawn's devoted love, Ghost will do anything to protect her--even pit himself against the merciless undead stallion. Each have vowed to kill the other in time...
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fanart . other →
He gets lotsa fanart, I just gotta remember to put it up hurr...
Oh yeah 'other' refers to how many attempts people have made to try and copy him. -_-
character rip-off
No mercy.
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leave →
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