the breaking of the second seal
#1
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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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#2
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Onward, to victory and glory! (3+)


There was a rustle of black wings at his side, and the serpent spared a moment to glance again at the creature who rode there. He was a terrifying sight, glorious, delicious enough to light the reptile's cold blood with heated flames. Their mission lay before them, the twisted path these two immortals had chosen, and they rode it now, side by side. Ezekiel's mount was a beast of fire and earth, the steed of War; Full of eager anger and dangerous pride, much as his master was. His own clawed hands held the faded black leather reins of a different beast - One spun from moonsilk and gossamer, one that floated above the ground with an ethereal and deadly grace. Perhaps, if they had both been seated atop stallions, the two would not have been able to ride so close. As it were, the pair moved as one unit - Forth into the black woods that awaited them, a strange specter that seemed to leap from the pages of medieval history.


The fire in his blood simmered, festering in his bones, in the raw cavity where a warm heart should beat. Eyes of acid seared the land, withering and fatal, filled with enough hatred to burn. His anger was not just the righteous anger of a god-given man, scorned; His was the fury of a wounded beast, a creature filled with unfamiliar, un-expressed grief. The emotion had eroded him from the inside, till all that remained was a cavity filled with acid, filled with venom. This was no plight for the righteous; This was the march of a damned man, seeking blood and cold, cold vengeance.


He released the reigns, using lean-muscled thighs to direct the mare; And from beneath the heavy pelt of a bear he withdrew two daggers, twisted and wicked in hands of cream. Bandaged arms flexed as the silver fangs twirled in skilled fingertips, the handled moving to rest in a familiar weight against calloused palms. Peagreen lifted to meet the sharp gold of his accomplice, his brother; He who was made from the same dark clay. And yellowed teeth mirrored that vicious, wicked green, sharp as the thin pin-points of his pupils. Black lips wrinkled back; the nose that had been tracking that vile scent quivering as it came again, fresher than ever before. War had come to his thistle-lined borders, and it was time that they eliminated this threat once and for all.




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#3
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PP Henrik as much as you want; horseback combat for now, then we can all get down to the nitty gritty and what not ;>



Something drove them, beyond revenge, beyond securing the safety of their homes. It was a bloodlust, plain and simple, and it had been the driving force between them since their first meeting. Ezekiel could not deny what he was in plain presence of the earth-colored coyote. The difference between them was one of fire and ice. They would destroy each other, if given the chance, and oh how they had tried.

There should have been something, then, to announce them. A horn, a summons, a cry from some angel or some god yet unknown. Ezekiel looked upon the half-hidden camp without mercy. He would kill because it was his right, and he would kill because it was his burden. An arrow was notched, its pointed tip just beyond his red fingertips. Fletching from the red birds marked them as his own. A heel dug into Viggo’s side and the stallion tossed his mighty head, ushering forth their charge with a bellowing whinny.

He flew, atop the massive horse, silent and half-snarling, half-smiling, as the enemy rose before them. A massive wolf, dark and scarred, armored in glimmering and worn metal let forth a deep howl. Ezekiel let the first arrow fly and watched it tear past the man’s face, ripping his cheek. Now, the first blood was his. The wolf roared in response and hurtled forward on his own horse, a pale stallion whose eyes were already rolling, and war was upon them.

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#4
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Just throwing a little ghey in here because reasons. (3+)


It was a thin line they rode, between hatred and lust, between friend and foe and brother and rival. Too many distinctions were blurred by the deep connection of truth - Truth of being, truth of existing. There were none of these categories; They were beasts of kin, two creatures sculpted from dark earth and kilned in fire. One opposed the other, Skoll and Hati, the creators. This was how it had been for their ancestors, and beneath their false layers of civility, this was how it was for the eagle and the serpent.


A beast rose from the fray, and Sirius knew from the taste of the bitterness within him that this foul man was responsible for his crimes. A blur of red was released at his side, and the arrow sliced by the man's face; Releasing his mortal blood. This was all Sirius needed. Siv had told him the way, had showed him the path that would lead to gory victory - This blood was all he needed to know of the mortality of the other, a mortality Sirius was no longer sure he truly possessed. From writhing black lips came a terrible snarl; The silver mare shrieked in shrill fear at it, her eyes rolling white. But she was obedient, and lunged in time to the giant red beast beside her; much swifter than he.


To battle the blood-brothers rode, one brandishing bow and arrow and the other two teeth of cold steel and ivory. The blades twirled in his fingers, held out at the sides as Sirius urged Luna onwards, and the mare was resplendent in her speed and agility, leaping over a make-shift campfire, dodging a lean-to that Viggo would barrel straight through. The war-bringer's pale stallion gave a challenging shriek, and the silver mare's ears lifted eagerly. She would not be the object of his vicious anger - The red stallion would cop all his attention. It was a strategical move, for the serpent was a strategist at heart. Loki-incarnate, the witch thought. Yellow teeth glittered in a vicious, maleficent grin.


Daggers raked the man's armored side as the trio clashed. Steel screamed against steel, but only for a second before Sirius flew past, wheeling Luna about in a half-rear to face the conflict again. It would be hard to pierce the man's armored body, but he was eager now for blood, and dashed the silver mare forth again.




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#5
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The apocalypse resounded with the thunder of hooves and the scent of iron. Under his legs Ezekiel felt the muscles of his horse pulse and round with each turn. He felt the earth below this, shaking. There was not much room for thought—he managed to fire only one more arrow, driving it deep into an opening of the wolf’s armor. It was a move that cost him, for the sword swung high and cut through the string, severing it, driving hard and deep into the de le Poer’s arm. Viggo reared suddenly and Ezekiel, in a panic, grabbed a fistful of mane. The massive horse kicked out at the other stallion, who responded in kind, but even that did not slow the swinging sword, the resounding cries of anger from the wolf.

He heard words, but they were somehow muted, somehow meaningless. He heard ‘your father’, and ‘God’, and ‘damnation’. He saw hate. The bow was shoved against his side, pinned by the weight of the bag there, and then he had only the sword. What Halo had taught him was not enough, and it showed. His motions were harsh and savage, hacking rather than practiced. It didn’t matter. The world was falling apart around him, and all Ezekiel saw was the path before him.

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