the breaking of the second seal

Ezekiel de le Poer · 05-17-2012, 12:57 PM

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(300)Alaaaaaine. Assuming everyone is present, just using this to set the tone. Zeke and Siri have obvious plants.

Two horsemen rode south. One was named War; his horse was red and his rider came bearing a sword. It had been stolen; it belonged to a dead man slaughtered by one of his followers. War was marred by scars, the freshest forming sharp red-pink lines against his body. He was broad-shouldered and pure muscle, stocky despite his breeding. Ezekiel had come, not as a prophet, but as the wrath of a beast scorned. They had challenged his home, challenged his God given right to live, and he would take it from them in turn. God would know his own.

A pale horse flanked him, and upon this horse was Conquest. The horse was the color of moonlight, its rider a deep earthen shadow. Others followed—they did not matter. Only the deep and familiar ache of his wounds, of the corrupted soul within his belly, these were things that mattered. When he had asked for guidance there had been none. Absolutely free, Ezekiel had chosen the singular instinct that drove all living things—the will to survive. With it came wrath, and with that came death.

The massive red stallion quivered under his touch. Between them was electricity and an understanding of reason, the realization and denial of logic. Slaughter alone was their purpose. A bow was pulled from his back. Strands of blonde hair, sunbleached to nearly white at the tips, twisted and turned in a breeze that carried the faint scent of their enemies. They were close. Ezekiel looked to his companion, his true brother, and amber eyes met those of unforgiving acid. He smiled savagely, dark whiskers curling up towards his muzzle. They had led their people here with a singular aim and now, with the brink of true war upon them, the time was nigh.

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