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Appearance

{sit down at my table}

My looks are a bit different, aren't they? Not exactly what you would normally see out here in the forest, right? I pride myself in my unique appearance. I am one of a kind, in every aspect of that phrase.

To begin with, I'll talk about the most obvious thing about me: my pelt. I am a piebald stallion of a blackish brown and white. The darker color dominates the majority of my body. The white markings rest on the side of my torso and slither their way across my flank and shoulder. The other light markings are scattered about me. There are some white splotches on my legs, stemming from the white that starts from my hooves and travels up to about my knees.

You probably can't see the blaze that extends from my forehead down to my muzzle, or the patches of white that adorn my cheeks. What you do see is the ram skull that I have placed on my face. It was a gift from the Sark who had taught me, and it was a gift from the Sark who had taught her. The thing is older than dirt, yet it's still looking good. It has a few cracks here and there, but it gives it that shaman charm. I can only assume that it had come from a male. The horns are thick and swirl from the base of my ears to the back of my cheek bones.

I'm not a very large horse, in terms of weight. I have the feathers of a draft, but I'm no Clydesdale. My legs are thin, and so is my torso. Those long legs of mine add to my height. My mother and father were tall horses, so it was obvious that I would follow suit. So, in a nutshell, I am tall and skinny.

My mane and tail aren't much different from other horses. Both are long, yet surprisingly well groomed. Matted fur scares away any possible clients. I have to look my best. Both my mane and tail share the same color: a dark, dark brown. If you look closely, you can see the streaks of black, gray, and light brown. When at rest, my mane easily drapes down my shoulders and hangs nearly at my knee. My tail? It often drags on the ground, making it a bit difficult to keep clean.

The feather? I don't know what bird it came from, but I don't really care. It's a large feather. I would say that it is about a foot long. The base color is a blend of purple and pink, and perhaps a dash of red. It is then layered with black horizontal strips which travel from bottom to top. The feather is precious to me, it was given to me by someone very close... I keep it in my mane, right behind my right ear.

And I have saved the best for last. My eyes... Oh, those lovely portals to the soul. Now, my eyes are something of a totally different variety. They would be blue, but they aren't. You see, scientifically speaking, there are a lot of blood vessels in my iris. The natural blue of my eye was so light, that it blended with the red from the vessels. So, my eyes are a purple coloration. In certain light, they'll look blue. In other light, red. And in natural light, purple. So many horses are mesmerized by this little trait of mine. And trust me, I play it up. It's a great asset in asserting my...mystical "powers."

Powers

{I got voodoo}

Call them powers if you will. I would never call them such a thing. But you uneducated horses don't know any better. These "powers" are not just mine. You think that I am all powerful because I can see your past and predict your future. No, it's not my own doing. You see, the spirits are the explanation. They are all over my home. Invisible to you, but visible to me. You'll feel the wind and breeze. Except...that's not the wind. It's the soul of a horse long passed. They whisper in my ear. They reveal your past to me, and suggest your future. It's up to me to provide the rest. Those same spirits will tell me the formulas for complex cures, poisons, and spells. The spirits are my "power," yet I feel it is disrespectful to label them as such.

Now get this, dear. Once you make a deal with me. Once you ask for my help... You have basically given yourself to the spirits. That is how we function. I can't help it. If I bring them horses to claim, I get to keep my life. Granted, they may not do much with you. Maybe they'll watch over you like guardians. Or maybe they'll make your life a mess. I don't know. That much is out of my control. But what I do know is... You will become a spirit yourself when you pass. Now, now... Is that really all that horrible?
I'm no spirit. So I don't know what there life is like. If it really is horrible, don't complain to me. I'm only doing my job.

Personality

{Don't you derogate or deride}

I find it rather strange to talk about my personality, most just want to know about my past. But I know you'll ask about that shortly.

Where to start? Ah... I'm a smart boy. Much smarter than those other horses. They don't think things through; they don't find the loopholes. And that's what makes them perfect targets. The stupid horses of my herd come to me for help, thinking I'm some miracle worker. Oh, I'm far from that. Far from it. If anything, I'm the exact opposite. Granted, I know every cure for every wound, sickness, and disease, but I don't just give that knowledge away. I'm smarter than that. If I did that, then those horses would treed all over my back. I wouldn't want that. I much too proud of a stallion for that treatment.

I'm a smooth talking guy. I can play with words. They truly are subjective things. A word can mean two things at one time. It is far too easy to sneak in implications throughout my sentences. And trust me, you won't see it coming. I will say one thing, but through the context, I mean something totally different. Keep your ears and mind sharp when around me. Life gets boring out here when I'm all alone. I jump at the chance to have a little fun with the needy herd horses.

I am honest. Never have I told a lie. Challenge me if you wish, but you will always be incorrect. As stated before, I'm good at talking... They are just horrible at listening. I am not dishonest. Don't let them get that into your head. It is their own faults that they feel this way. I give them exactly what I promise, but it may not be what they have in mind. Oh well... They should have paid more attention, and been more specific. Not my problem.

Now, now. Don't view me as such a horrid stallion. I am actually quite charming. I have to be to keep a deal, you know. Gotta be conscious of how I present myself. I will appear suave, charismatic, and cunning. Which, I am. I'm a showman - a born actor of drama. I can put on a perfect smile at a whim. It's all a part of the job description. Yet my intentions are usually anything but charming. I suppose I'll chat about that next.

Out here... No one controls me! I owe nothing to the herd leaders. If anything, they owe me. I am in no one's debt, except those of the spirits. This great freedom allows me to practice my "healing" as I please. No one dares to bridle me. I can do whatever I want; and that is precisely what I do. No one comes to punish me when I "accidently" make a little slip up... I'm a free horse. Oh, and freedom is lovely. But I am not without a few shackles... I may not hold many affiliations to the herd, but the spirits have their own grip on me. It's a complicated relationship, my friend. One I'll explain shortly.

Manipulative... I'm the definition of the word. You won't know what hit you. They tell you to beware of the shadow stallion in the bog, but you come to me anyway. You come to me with your deepest wants, and it's me who promises to fulfill them. It's the greed deep inside your heart that lures you into my grasp. Mixed with some sweet words from yours truly, there is no way a horse would back out. They feel strangely safe among my dismantled home. They see the bones, feathers, and skulls, yet they gleefully press forward. Once I know what you want, it is easy to pull you in.

They call me cruel, vindictive, and remorseless. Eh, perhaps it's true. Once our deal is made, expect the unexpected. I'm not after power though, let's get that one straight. I have no need for power. I am not a leader, and I am not a ruler. I am a simple stallion who has the blessings of the spirits. I must do whatever I can to please those spirits. They give me everything, and they can take anything away. I dare not disrespect the spirits. They are the most powerful force out here. I say... They are probably more powerful than that evil... I will not underestimate the strength of the spirits. I know what they are capable of. They can destroy me at any moment. So... I must keep them pleased. Even at the expenses of other horses. If it's what the spirits want, that is what they get. I try my hardest to keep the waters calm between them and myself. So far, so good. The simple solution is not to ask more than what I need. Then... I would accumulate a debt. And we all know how hard those are to pay off.

I lack morals, do I? That is the common view among the herd. I can't say it's totally false. Actually, it's rather true. I do what I have to do. I may be breaking a few social rules, but those hardly matter to me. But let me say this, I do have a slightly sympathetic side. I understand the lonely, the outcasts, and the poor. The ones who have been kicked, bitten, and trampled for their bloodlines and status. I understand them. Hmm... I may even respect them.

↓ last post ;

Aloo & Vulcain

May 20th

The stallion just couldn't shake off the feeling that was sinking in his gut. Something was wrong – he knew it; the spirits knew it. Isn't that what they were trying to tell him? They had shown him the image of the Kraken for a reason, hadn't they? As "encouraging" as they may be, a single horse wasn't nearly enough to take on such a gruesome creature. Even a horse of his nature. Once those tentacles grab a hold of something, or someone, they never let go… Being dragged to the bottom of the sea wasn't quite the exit he had planned for this life. So it would be best to stay away.

His hoof caught on the dry, crooked root of the tree he found shelter under. With an agitated shake of his mane, he pulled at the root, trying to free his hoof. But that was, strangely, to no avail. A look of confusion washed across his covered face as he once again attempted to free his leg. Nothing. The stallion snorted as he glanced around at his surroundings. The spirits were present again; he could feel them staring at him – laughing at him. His front leg pawed at the ground as he gave one last kick. This time it had worked, but not without consequences. The spirits finally let his leg free, but in return the old wooden root of the tree left a small gash right above his hoof. At once, an eruption of laughter sounded from the forest. None of this was funny. With a furious snort, the stallion continued to walk forward – ignoring the looming looks of the spirits.

It seemed as if they had not finished their little game. The moment he had rested his torso against the trunk of the tree his whole body was abruptly pulled to the ground. It felt as if snakes were crawling over his fur, constricting around his limbs and neck. His legs thrashed at the invisible force, only making the feeling become tighter and tighter. Vulcain could feel the snakes, or tentacles, wrapping around his jugular. "Enough! Stop!" For a brief moment, everything was silent. The pain had stopped, and the pressure was gone. But in a snap, it was tighter than before. Weight was pushing on his ribs and crushing at his bones. The stallion bellowed in pain. /Kraken…/ The spirits whispered in his ear. /Kraken…/

They were this serious about the Kraken…? How could visiting the Kraken possibly benefit him? The creature was soulless and dumber than a rock. It couldn't negotiate. It could only dragged horses to their grave. Another snort of defilement ruptured from his snot. He would not go there. Oh, the spirits were not pleased. Their laughter had silenced, but he could feel their fiery glares burning into his pelt.

/Aloo…/ They had whispered. /Aloo…/

The dark stallion frozen as that name processed in his mind. Of course the spirits knew who she was; they knew everything. They knew that she was his best friend; that she was his only living support system; that she was, perhaps, even more than a friend. They knew it all. His muscles relaxed, and the pressure had disappeared. /Go…/ Go? Go where… ? His purple eyes widened in realization. Go to the Kraken? The Kraken had Aloo!?

He stumbled to his feet, shakily pulling himself together. The Kraken's domain was quite a run from here. Would he make it in time? No, he couldn't think that way. Without a glance back, he bolted from the forest. His hooves digging into the soft, spongy ground that he tread over.

The pain in his muscles could be ignored. He could catch his breath later. Getting to Aloo was his first and only priority. Sweat was dripping from his back; leaving dark streaks across his fur. Almost there! His vision was becoming slightly blurry, but he had to shake that off. Time was ticking! Dcath waited for no one; that's why he must be faster than it.

His hoofs skid across the mucky terrain of the riverbed as he came to a stop. Hoofprints littered the mud here. Along with the imprints of, what he could only imagine to be, the tentacles of the Kraken. The waves of the river were jagged and alive. Covering the struggle that was going on below its surface. His light eyes focused on the water just as a tentacle disappeared beneath the depths. "Aloo!" He belted out before rushing into the tide.

The cold water lapped at his legs as he forcefully pushed his way through the waves. The monster was right below his tail, but he couldn't let that spook him. The spirits had guided him here; so they knew what would happen. It wouldn't make sense for them to krill their Sark, right? Water splashed over his back and washed across his face. His eyes burned from the water, and it was only a matter of time before it began to seep into his lungs. "Aloo!" he tried again. Still no answer. Sharp words sped from his lips as he scanned the violent waters.

There! That had to be where she was. Thick clouds of red began to rise to the surface of the river. Whether it belonged to Aloo or the Kraken, he didn't know. But he was going to take the chance that it was Aloo's. It was a fifty/fifty shot. He would either find his mare, or his dcath. The odds were playable enough.

He took a deep breath; filling his lungs with the air he would need to dive down into the river. He didn't have long, but he prayed that it would be long enough. His mane clung to his neck as he prepared to plumage into the depths. Gritting his teeth together, the stallion pushed his head under the water. His legs kicked and kicked. Sending him deeper and deeper into the darkness. The red water flowed through his tail as it whipped around in the currents. Keeping his eyes open stung like no other, but it was the only way to see the palomino mare, if she was even here… No; he couldn't think like that.

A lone bubble drifted up from below him. It danced through the waters before resting on his chin, only to disappear with a silent pop. Instinctively he cast his gaze downward, catching the light from above glisten across a white mane which was sinking deeper and deeper to the river bank. Pulling all of his energy together, Vulcain kicked at the water. He had to hurry now. His air supply was running low, and she was in his sight!

His muzzle brushed against her free-floating mane. So close… The long strands twirled alongside his. Just a little closer. No… There was no way that he could swim under her to push her to the surface. Despair flooded across him as he watched her fall. In a desperate attempt, he stretched his neck and pulled his lips back. His teeth clamped upon her withers. She was in his grasp, now what? Her weight was pulling him down. The stallion's eyes widened in agony as he strained to pull her towards the surface. The muscles in his legs were exhausted by now. The long run plus this was proving too much, even for a large stallion like himself. He could see the underwater world around him dimming as he struggled to keep his eyes open.

Why couldn't the spirits come to his aid now…? This is when he really needed them. Oh, but why would they do that. He was the one in debt to them… By saving Aloo, he was preventing a soul from reaching their side. This went against everything he sold his soul for… So then why did they tell him to come here? His mind was so fuzzy. The lack of air was taking its toll on him. Was this it?

It seemed as if time had stopped. Everything was getting dark. It was cold. Oh, so cold. The water cushioned the two equines as they floated in the blue abyss moving wherever the current pushed them. His eyes closed. Bubbles spewed from his nostrils and drifted to the surface above. His legs became limp, but his jaw remained locked. He wasn't going to let her go, even if it meant losing his own life… The fibers of his dark mane and her light one clung together as the pair sunk deeper into the river.

/Lady Fate… I beg you… Have mercy on our souls…/
/Spirits… I ask this one favor... Save my love…/
/Please…/

It's…

All…

I…

Ask…

For...

Past

{The cards will tell}

I knew you would ask about this. It doesn't surprise me in the least. Well... I have some time to waste, and I know for a fact that you won't tell. Right...? So why not take a seat while I read my own past...

My parents were both from a fine blood line. Practically royals... I can't recall their exact positions within the herd, but they were adored by the "lesser" horses, as they called them. Those two were of the arrogant breed, and expected to raise me to follow in their affluent hoofprints. They would expect no less than the position of Helm of me. Sadly for them, they were shaken by quite a surprise.

I was just leaving foalhood when the old Sark ventured out of his swamp home. His careful eyes scanned over the herd before they rested on me. A small smile crept across his face as he strode towards me. Instinctively, my mother shielded me from the stallion's gaze. Fear was written across her face. Something like this could not be happening to her or to her son. I was to be the Helm, not the Sark! She showed her teeth, but the spiritual stallion paid her no mind. He pushed her out of the way and stared at me. The skull of a ram sat atop his head. With a stern nod, he turned his head towards my mother. "He is the next Sark" he said. My mother was hysteric.

There was no way, in her mind, that the son of two of the most prestigious horses could be a lowly Sark. But I suppose the spirits had their plans for me. The Sark before me would not back down, despite my parents' best efforts. I was being called by the spirits, and that reason alone was enough for me to become his apprentice. The fighting was nasty, I must admit. I didn't like being around them. Once the Sark would huff back to his home, they would take out their extra anger on me. I was bitten, kicked, and pushed by my own parents through no fault of my own.

Eventually, they decided to disown me. Claiming that they never had a son. I was not to call them mom or dad. I was not to even address a horse of their rank. I was now considered dirtier than dirt in their eyes, and there was no way that I could change that. So, I retreated to the only place where I knew I would find refuge: the Sark's swamp. He greeted me and welcomed me to stay with him. I didn't need to explain myself: he already knew. From that point on, I was the Sark's Apprentice.

It was difficult at first... I didn't have the help of the spirits at that time, so I was on my own. The Sark was trying to teach me what herbs did what and how to read a horse's expressions, but I was a slow learner. Perhaps I was too set on doing things my own way, which the Sark was weary of. He had warned me multiple times to be cautious with the spirits. He had given me many lessons on the good and bad spirits. He had tried to teach me the difference between the two. But... I suppose I have selective listening.

I remember one day very specifically... I was a colt at that time. Still young, but not a foal. The Sark had a client: an injured filly. Knowing that the fix was relatively simple, he had put me on the job. I was told to repair her to the best of my abilities. I knew that the Sark was watching me closely, assessing my abilities. The young mare had a long wound across her belly. She said that it was an injury from running through the thick grass; a branch of some sorts had snagged her. Thankfully, it wasn't very deep. It was a simple fix.

The swamp had a bounty of wild plants and herbs. I remember the Sark once telling me that the dirty water was misleading. It was actually full of nutrients and healing attributions. It gave vivid life to the plants around it. Yet, I was stumped while wandering aimlessly about the bog. All of the plants looked the same to me... I was about to give up when a heard a voice in my ear. That one... It had said... The plant with the broad leaves... I was startled at first, but since I had no idea what I was doing out there, I trusted the mysterious words. I grabbed the leaves in my mouth and galloped back to the young mare. The Sark looked at what I had brought back and nodded his head in approval. I had done well.

I applied to the filly's wounds and instructed her to rest here for a little while. She agreed, not like she had too much of a choice... Once she was resting, I went to talk to the Sark. I explained to him that I had heard a voice telling me what to do. He was strangely quiet. After, perhaps, the longest silence of my life, he spoke. He had said that the Spirits were talking to me, and that it was slightly strange. While the Sark always had contact with the spirits, they generally don't help out with cures and medicine. They assume that a good Sark doesn't need help with such trivial things. But was I different? The Sark didn't say. He just shrugged and walked into the woods. I later learned that I was "chosen" by the spirits to be more than the regular Sark. They had more detailed plans for me, and it frightened the old Sark.

I digress... I suppose I'll bring up that filly again, since she was, actually, a big part of my life. Once she was healed, I escorted her back to the herd. I'm not sure why I did. I knew she could walk herself there, but I did anyway... I felt out of place the moment I stepped onto the herd's land. Their eyes narrowed at me. Some would stomp their hooves and others would show their teeth. Instinctively, my ears pressed against my head as my gait slowed. I didn't want to keep walking... I was just about to make a run for it when the filly turned towards me. She spoke her name: Aloo. Before I could even give her my own name, she had declared that I was now her friend.

We really were friends after that... Good friends...

She would visit me at the swamp, stealing me away from the Sark so that we could do whatever we felt like doing. I was happy when I was around that filly. She was a support system I never had before. She was someone I could talk to; someone I could complain to; someone I could express my feelings to. I valued our friendship before anything else. I miss they days when we would gallop through the open fields playing a game of tag... Sometimes I wish that I could go back to that time. Things seemed so much simpler.

Time took its toll on us, and we grew up to be a stallion and mare: a Sark and Current. We each had new positions in the herd that we had to attend to. I had to stay away from the herd, while she had to always be at its side. We said that it was for the best... Going our separate ways. If we became too caught up with each other, it would jeopardize how well we do our jobs. I hold no ill feelings about this decision. It was what we had to do. Granted, I miss very much, but I can only hope that she is happy in the herd and that her life is everything that she wants it to be. Me? I'm satisfied with my life. I have no complaints...

Right before I separated with Aloo, the old Sark had passed away. His parting words were to be weary of the spirits; they hold me for a dangerous fool. I didn't know what he had meant. He left me his "crown;" the old ram's skull that he had always adorned. It was strange to see him with the mask off...He looked like any other stallion.

Not long after, I was offered a deal with the spirits. I was alone by the murky waters of the swamp when the voices encircled me... The form of a foggy old mare appeared before my eyes. Her own eyes were a glowing purple color. The spirits wanted to strike a deal with me; she liked me and my charisma. She saw in me what she had never seen in another Sark. I had potential for them, and they wanted to make the most of me. Her proposition was this: the spirits under her control would be obedient to me. They would tell me the secrets of any horse and the cure to any illness. However... I would have to bring her additional spirits. I don't know why she wanted more, but I didn't question. Including my own spirit, when I pass, she wanted the spirits of any horse I could rope in with tricky words and promises. Basically, any horse who came to me for selfish reasons was to be delivered to her once he/she passes. Fair enough. I agreed with that. So the horses coming to me for additional strength, beauty, and power would unknowingly become part of our deal. Those were the souls that I would deliver to her.

To assure that I would do my job right, she chose an apprentice for me. An apprentice of her own kind... It was a "colt" that held his own ties to the other side; he was the other side. A living, breathing, incarnation of the spirits. Clad in the pelt of a young stallion to fool the horses of Stormfast. We get along rather well.

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