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Water, splashing heavily onto the rocks, swishing over the sands, trembled with its whitecaps on the southern Mystery Island beach. This particular piece of land was untouched for many meters, a perfect paradise of the tropics, if you can imagine. It seemed that there were but one creature of any substantial size on the land, a low grumbling coming from his dark throat. Nearly a growling sound, it emanated from deep within, cold and fierce; a mere reflection of the true corruption of this particular Peophin male. His deep, Darigan appearance was out of place here. He looked like he would have been more at home in a cemetery, or the gatekeeper for the Darigan Citadel. His deep brow furrowed, harsh facial features scanning the ocean for something that would never arrive.

He paced, dark feathering on his muscular legs seeming to flow with the warm winds that wafted from the vast Mystery Sea, or "Le Grandeur", as one local called it. The Big. "Stupid name for an ocean," he exclaimed loudly, deep voice seeming to come from some other, larger source. He, of course, was rather large for a Peophin, standing taller than most Skeiths, but it didn't matter to the utterly dull female Peophin he was supposed to meet. Taking comfort in the fact that if she didn't show up, he'd find her, he began making a sort of hut on the beach. If the locals had a problem with him destroying these tropical plants, he'd deal with them in the morning. Glancing over his battle scars from the previous Meridell war, he grinned maliciously. Come and find me.

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She was late, and she knew it. The silver Peophins' streamlined body zoomed through the salty water with amazing speed and aqua dynamic force- all that training for the Battledome seemed to be working out well, and wasn't entirely useless. The ocean was becoming dark, the sun setting quickly and Kreludor peeking out from its hiding spot in the sky. She breaked for a moment, coming to the surface for a quick breath of air. She couldn't move as quickly as she used to, and Sorrov would have to deal with it. He was twice her age- he should know how it felt. Ance looked up, appreciatively, at Kreludor, pondering for a moment as to what could be going on up there. Last time she'd visited, she was promptly chased back into the transporter by a giant, evil robot.

She abandoned her thoughts, realising that Sorrov would, indeed, be awaiting for her appearance, and began swimming in the obscure direction he'd told her to go. Hopefully, his brain hadn't been entirely addled by the unfamiliar heat of the island and he didn't direct her to a cold, desolate island. If old age happened to creep up on the male now, this would be a very, very inconvenient time for it to happen.

The mare's fears were eased as a thin line came into view, peeking over the impenetrable horizon of ocean and sky, standing out like a sore thumb. She wished, whole-heartedly, that there was something near by so as to gauge the size of the island, or how far away it was, but there being none, she dealt with it. Still swimming, ever closer to the surface, she noticed the definite difference in the sands as she neared the island. They seemed closer to her feet, so she couldn't be far now. Surely, Sorrov would kill her for being this late.

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It was now dark, or near dark, on the island. The sun had bade its farewell for the night, kissing the tips of the palm trees goodnight as it sank into the sea. The stallion was furious as he built a fire to keep warm, and as a light source. In all his days, he'd never had to actually use the flame ability, and wasn't happy about having to put it into use. The idiot mare would be given one last chance before he took it upon himself to go find her in the morning. This wasn't some piddly bit of gossip, or a juicy one, for that matter; this was a matter of life and death. Her life and death. She just didn't know it yet.

He'd already lost a son recently; he didn't need to lose his 'adopted' daughter to those same forces. Not this time, anyways. His thoughts were dragged into the present as the water broke into a silver swirl of glittering sea-mare.

So, what do you want to tell me, oh-pushy-one?" she inquired, dripping wet and still regal as ever. She smiled, revealing her shiny white teeth, free of any normal ocean debris.

His voice seemed to catch now; he didn't want to tell her. Put it off, Sorrov. She doesn't need to know yet, he thought to himself, hurriedly. His throat tightened, his 'bigger' mind pushing the tender thought out of the way. He hesitated. His heart leaned two ways; one for the filly, and one for his homeland. Their homeland.

Rayneance," he started, voice barely kept from trembling as he focused on getting her attention. "I have something of utmost importance to tell you." Keep putting it off. She doesn't need to know yet!

So," she started, being rather curt with him, "it was important enough to drag me all the way from Neopia Central?" she smirked, nearly giggling. His subtle hints of impending danger weren't putting any fear into the mare's young heart- she wasn't afraid to face it again. Her blue eyes danced with the fire's gaze, lit with excitement.

Augh! You're so frustrating to talk with! Stop interrupting me for just one flaming moment so I can explain everything!" he exploded, voice nearly carrying out over the sea and back again. His words reverberated off of the trees, startling a few wild Weewoos in them. "Skarl, the oaf, is after you again. Found out you were alive, and for some unknown reason, he sees you as a threat," he spat, words coming forth, abandoning emotion and cruelly hitting his company with brutal force.

Intelligence and humility seem to be a factor," she said sarcastically, feeling hurt by his explanation. For some unknown reason. "If he wants a little tiff or a face-off, he'll get it." Her words spewed out in a stirring rage. "It's not as if Lord Darigan won't help me!" she screamed, voice shrilly piercing the once serene landscape. By now, she had began pacing unsteadily on the soft sands, leaving biscuit sized hoof impressions wherever her feet landed. She began working up a panicked sweat, even in the cool evening air.

Sorrov stepped back, sorry for the way he'd put it. The unpredictable filly would go to any lengths to make herself equal with even the dullest of nemesis. This rage wasn't uncommon- in the last war, she'd nearly gotten herself killed with an arrow through the thick of her body. The grotesque white scar still remained, but Rayneance being bull-headed, didn't care for her appearance. She was war-bound, and he couldn't stop her. "And if Lord Darigan refuses?" he queried, perking an eyebrow curiously.

She smiled. "Then I'll have to gather my own army." The fearlessness grew in her eyes, rage boiling, blood racing- she was ready to face the dolt, whether he wanted to see her or not. "Sorrov, come with me. Lord Darigan won't recognise me in this form, this pathetic silver form, a non-servant, however loyal I was to him. He will remember you," she ordered, eyes narrowing to a slit as she located a boat on the shore. "I'm tired of swimming; we're taking a boat." Her harried actions were out of control, and her adrenaline was running quickly to a climax.

Let's go!

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The sun was rising as the pigeon pair fury paddled onto the shore of Meridell. They'd reached it in good time; and this particular spot was as isolated as any. Just the tip of the idiot's castle was in view; its repulsive blue colour hinting at the fact that Skarl would rather spend his money on food than new paint was clear. The mare rolled her eyes, trying to best calculate where soldiers with pitchforks would be and where they wouldn't be. If Skarl had really sent out the alert to kill her, the forests would be teeming with peasants, looking for the cheap bounty for her head. Anything for a dental visit, the mare presumed. She stealthily crept through the foliage, barely making a noise as her hooves crushed into the soft soil of the forest floor.

Sorrov carefully followed her, ducking his head and shoulders so as to not hit any of the branches. They'd walked far enough now so that the Citadel was in plain view, and heavily guarded. It wasn't this guarded two nights ago- what happened? The air was uneasy, giving the stallion a sort of queasy feeling in his stomach, like he'd need a good Neggitus injection after they were done with the situation. He had a very, very bad feeling about the impending altercation, and really didn't want to go any further. He shivered, though the sun beat down onto his dark coat in full force. His eyes filled with worry, he followed her, to watch her back and to tell her to leave if anything horrible should start to happen. They hadn't talked for hours, and the silence was killing him. Did she have any idea of what she was doing? She'd start up another war, for certain. The pair had thought nothing of a decrepid bat-like creature, roaming the woods aimlessly.

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The looming Citadel in full view now, the mare's heart jump-started again with her renewed rage. The guards, hurridly moving out of the way to the spiral staircase of magic so that the two could begin their acscent. Their hooves clomped loudly, bodies balancing out precariously the whole way up. Their muscles strained in their harried run, backs and legs aching from the extended effort of rowing with their tails one night and then later, running through the woods while trying to be unseen. The top of the staircase was soon reached in due time, but they were stopped mid way by two large, burly Eyries.

You are declined access beyond this point. Lord Kass requests no visitors," he spoke loudly, semi-robotically, if it were called so. He stood firm, red eyes staring out dully onto the landscape. His monotonic voice stated the phrase again, officially creeping the two out.

Let's... move around them," Sorrov suggested, getting the feeling that they weren't real. He didn't hesitate to wait for a response as he walked around the first one without interruption. He nodded the filly forward, and once again, no interruption. Smiling uneasily, he took the door with his feathered tail, grasping it and opening it carefully, in case they were met with the same hostile greeting as before.

They were.

The large, uniformed Eyrie growled at them, standing up quickly from his position at the previous Lord's desk. "To what do I owe this obvious displeasure?" he spat, glaring at Sorrov, and staring through Rayneance. "That someone who walked over my body, when I lie bleeding and dying in battle, should come and visit me two years later?" His hands placed firmly on the desk, he gave an obvious impression of authority.

Sorrov backed carefully, eyes fear stricken at the Eyrie he'd left for dead on the field. He said nothing, for fear of saying the wrong thing. If he'd of said anything, the words would have come out choked, anyways.

Well, Sorrov, old friend; I've been waiting for you," he said with a cruel gleam in his eye. "Always knew you to be the savior of a damsel in distress; should you have known it was your own life in danger, I knew you would have taken flight instead of facing your demons." His hand reached for the blade in the wrap around his hips, and he took a step forward.

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From Birth, a Tyrant

I was never considered a very welcome member of my herd. I was always left alone as a foal, by two uncaring soldier parents with war in their eyes and hatred in their hearts. While I was still young, less than a school-aged foal, I was taken far away from the herd, when my parents were killed. I was, nevertheless, unmoved by their deaths. I hadn't known them to be giving, caring creatures, and thus didn't feel as such to them or the world, for that matter.
My new place of residence consisted of a simple bedstead, dresser, and a lamp for weak lighting. It was to be temporary, as I was to be moved to a more 'permanent' home, but I found it as being wonderful. Sheer simplicity, and a large closet. Were I to attempt anything, I would be unsuspected.
The happenings began a week after I arrived. I was blamed once, and when a clear search of my room deemed me innocent, I was home free. Oh, how wrong they were.

I was greatly feared there, so much so that even the orphanage helpers refused to come within ten feet of me. Not that I ever verbally imposed a threat- I was rather large for my age. And being large seemed to be the ticket in this lowly, dirty place.

When I had been there for two months, they immediately took notice of the fact that I'd stopped eating at mealtimes. No one wanting to be the inquirer, they left me alone. I had my own ways of getting food, and ones that would likely scare the dung right out of you.
I'll tell you this; The orphanage was overrun, and all I ever asked for was salad dressing.

Issues with Freedom, its Loss, and a Battle of Wits

Issues, in the sense that I had it when I signed myself up for the Darigan army, and then soon lost it in the low ranks. I was a mere private; a low-ranking imbicile in an army of intelligence. How I made it to that point was a miracle in itself- hazing was a concept they took to the extremes, and we, as new recruits, paid dearly for it. I won't go into the gory details, but I will tell you that battle scars aren't the only reason I limp.

My first encounter with the Lord Darigan was an unpleasant one. He was in a rather harried state, and was unwilling to speak to lowly recruits- or have one run into him. My off colouring was his first excuse for hating me- I was easily recognisable and and easy target, he explained. And not to mention, feminine. I tried, with a hurt pride and broken ego, to explain that I was just fourteen at the time, but he wouldn't hear of it.

My battle partner proved to be a smart little git- a purplish-blue mare that certainly wasn't of Darigan descent. She admitted to being a shapeshifter, and a pretty talented one at that. She seemed rather young, but wouldn't actually give a definate age, the petty filly.

We managed to stay together for a while, but she never let me touch her. Never. I'm not talking just romantically, either- she, for just over twenty years, stayed two to three feet away from me at all times. I had fallen in love with her sharp wit and dry humor, but she wouldn't have me. She gently explained that she couldn't have someone love her willingly, not just yet. I took this as a subtle 'back off', and so I gave her her space.

A Brush with Darkness

Somewhere between Brightvale and Meridell, an angel fell. She left her shadow, and I fell head over fins for her. Nyc, as she called herself, was the product of an evil deed- one so evil that her parent body had been banned from ever returning from whatever heaven they came from. I cared naught for whatever it may have been. I loved the coal black mare and her shining gold highlights; flowing light pink mane and haughty laughter. For two years, she rested, bringing forth two beautiful daughters for me- Noir and Memory- two perfectly formed little girls, my daughters.
But love was cruel to me- my love left me not a week after the girls were born to us. She simply took flight, raging beauty she was, and spoke nary a word to me again.

The Loves of my Life

Noir and Memory stayed by my side until their magickal calling beckoned to them- a school they called "Hogwarts" called to them, they said. They pleaded, as just eleven year olds, to be allowed to go. I didn't have a choice- it was for their happiness.

Noir, older by an hour, was the first to find true love. Her tender heart was taken by Crim, just as corrupt as he should be, and rightously so. It was, of course, to my pleasure when I was informed that I was to be a grandfather, times two. Following in their parents footsteps, Con and Elle are certainly two peas in a pod. Ever the watchful, the little Slytherins are as intelligent as their mother and as cunning as their father... and as corrupt as me. Perhaps they will bring the family justice...
Memory is lost in love. "In Media Res", I think it was once described as. She does have her sights set on a certain someone, but his heart doesn't speak true to her and has been with another. How can her heart beat for him, when his beats for another?

Before They, were Another

I do admit to being a bit more promiscuous than I should have been. I did have one other foal- a male. His name was Beau, taken before his time... my battle partner, Rayneance, claimed his heart in a spellbound frenzy. He was not willingly in love with her, yet when they were both young, or, rather, Beau, was young, she bore a horse-colt from him. His story, long as it may be, was never fully discussed to me. Perhaps... I'll never know the real truth of my son's death. Or how his wife came to have a foal nearly a year after his death... and a half-death of the mother.

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Kass stood firmly, grasping his sword as he let it play on the light a bit more, beads of sweat forming at the corners of his nostrils. Whether it was fear, anger, or pure rage was unclear to the duo, the demoness and the Darigan soldier.

One thing, however, was clear- the only sound in the room were three furiously beating hearts, echoing loudly in three pairs of ears. The mare, already irritated, felt as though she seriously didn't need these problems. The Eyrie, covered in armor and decorative splendor, was only focused on killing the stallion. And the stallion stood firmly, unsure of any of the next movements that might be taking place. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that soon enough, the Eyrie brave enough to take over an army was trembling, as was the mare.
Kass, are you ever going to make a move, or are you too peadackle to come forth?" Sorrov's courage returned, however, breaking the silence might have been the worse move he could have ever made.
The blade sliced through the air, and though it moved rapidly, it seemed to take forever to make contact with the stallion's shoulder blade. It cut easily, shrilly, through burgundy haircoat, thin with the summer's warmth, sending bloody flecks through the air along with a deep scream of pain. His silver companion barely blinked, quickly calculating Kass's next movement as she stepped in between the two, taking the next blow of the sword. It cut through, but not as deeply as it had the stallion- not a whimper escaped her lips as she watched her purpley-blue blood pour onto the blade, watched it as it hit, making the silver hiss and writhe with the effect that only a demon's blood could have on argent; acidic fusion. Take that, birdbrain.

The pair fought past the guards, ignoring Kass's obvious growls of detestment and hatred, pushing through, limping as pain crept through their already sore bodies.
Reaching the forest, in its relief from the heat of the afternoon, the two rested, bleeding, but alive. They lay in the soft, cool grasses, panting and tending to their wounds. Neither was as deep as they'd thought, as Kass was a bad swordsman, but both were painful.

Both looked out, onto the feilds which were once wrought with blood and death, now serene and quiet, knowing that by tomorrow, it would be, once again, a battlefield. More blood would be shed. More lives, lost. And the saga would continue, however changing, in this whirpool of activity.
Sorrov, what do you think will happen from here?" the mare inquired, perking her ears in either direction- the Citadel and the Field.
I don't really know. A war? Kass can't win. We can't allow it." he stated. Another question.
But there was just a war, and what of Darigan? Where is he now?" she asked wearily. She shook her head, getting an uneasy feeling about the entire issue.
He'll need help... but we'll have to side with Meridell..." he choked, barely wanting to say the words. He watched as the silver mare hesitantly nodded in agreement. They knew what they'd have to do.

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Story to be Continued on Alimendra's Petpage