[Deleted]

Name- Baron
Breed- Thoroughbred
Age- 9
Gender- Stallion
Height- 17.1hh
Alliance- Dark
Health- 100% physical, 100% mental

x. Locomotion was a beautiful thing. The use of every specific part of the body to the extent of its very purpose, corresponding muscles working in unison to create one flowing picture of grace. The manipulation of the body's power, the physical ability to stretch, flex, and release tension and create a kind of visual music for the surrounding world. The silence, humming away in his harks as it descended over the trees and brush in a veil of peace and stability, was a welcome guest. A very slight whisper of wind played with the ends of his banner, sending the tips of the ebonite hairs tickling over his cannons and fetlocks as he stood square, as if awaiting an expected que to break the pristine quietness. It came in the form of cedar branches rustling against one another during another bit of breeze. They hissed ever so slightly above him, and it sent a twinge of electricity pulsating up his spine. Light caught over the lines of his physique as the muscles below the silken sheen of his hide rippled, every aspect of his frame available for scrutiny, exposed to an invisible audience. When Baron had been younger, maybe the beginning of his third year of life, he had been told he'd undergo a new type of training. Not battle, not torture, not tactical thinking or plotting with other esteemed members of his father's inner circle. No, it was a kind of personal training to enhance his physique, aimed to make his every limb and his every inch obey any command he should be required to ask. Baron had scoffed at the very idea, cocky in his young age and utterly sure of himself and his physical abilities. He had always possessed a spectacular build, perfect conformation, and a natural love for work. So what could he possibly learn from an old warmblood-type stud who spoke in heavy German tones. He had firmly believed he'd known everything and heightened everything to the edge of its abilities, and he had been wrong. There was no sugarcoating the art of Dressage, there were no shortcuts for the complex motions and no higher degree of mental exhaustion. His teacher, his foreign language erupting in barks and snarls, had no patience for weakness or overcompensating in one way to be lazy in another. Baron would release his collection for a mere moment to loosen his aching topline while bringing his limbs across in a lateral pass only to have his critical instructor rap his chest with sharp ivories  The word 'Nein!'  had been a very popular one for the German, and it was the only one Baron could understand without any kind of doubt. And then he'd do  the pattern again, and again, and again until his entire frame burned and his patience had long ago faded into a sheer rage with his inability to do these pointless tasks. Passage. Paiffe. Renvers. Volte. Tempi Changes. Trevers. Rhythm. On the forehand. Haunches in. Shoulder in. Shoulder out. Haunches out. Half-Pass. Full Pass. Flying Changes. Collection. Impulse. Cadence.  They were brutal physical torments, but by the end of his agonizing training Baron had mastered them all to the art in which was required for such a discipline. He had displayed them all in a final performance, his body a nimble, obedient, powerful tool for the movements to flow through in a stunning display of physical splendour. His limbs had lifted and descended in time with some invisible pendulum, calm and in control of every step, every bend, every single solitary muscle on the vessel that was his body. His hind limbs moved under him in half-circles, to simply move them up and down promoted stiffness and restricted the freedom in his loin. He continued the motion in place, never breaking as a sheen of sweat began to appear on his chest. His strides smoothly broke into a canter, the beats even and consistent as his nape flexed deeper to his chest and he rotated around his haunches in a perfect circle. One after another, his front limbs snapped out as his lead changed after each and every stride he took. But it wasn't so simple; the motion had to engage from the hindquarters before the shoulders otherwise tension appeared in his ribcage and down into his hips and his risked a disjointed communication between the halves of his physique. He elegantly brought himself down to a working trot, curving himself around the corner of his make-shift manege and heading diagonally. He could do a lot of things with his natural conformation, but it had taken every hour of his training to harness the ability to hold an extended trot and make that beautiful movement look almost godly as he soared over the ground with outstretched limbs eating the soil with toes snapped out to the extent of their reach. He went through each motion with ease, the strain it had once had on him forgotten in an ecstasy of physical release the likes of which no other act had ever bestowed upon him. Not even sex could bring about such a feeling. 

He had ended his freestyle with a low bow to his teacher, who had stood in the center of the menege in uncharacteristic silence. Sweat had dripped off of him that day, frothing on his chest and shoulders, dampening his tresses and misting on his inked tones. Today, he had barely heated up at all as he brought his movements to a close and walked out of his arena while flexing and stretching his nape and rolling his shoulders. His crown lowered, nose almost dragging in the dirt as he freed up any stiff muscles and encouraged circulation throughout his frame. He was loose and limber, his former training now a well established routine in his day-to-day activities. He had gone a little to the extreme before heading to the battlefield, drilling the motions into his brain as if he hadn't done them in years instead of mere hours. He knew how to move, he knew how to be flexible, pliable, able to manipulate himself in any kind of shape he needed to become in order to avoid an attack. His Dressage had taught him how to keep his size from being a possible problem, since everybody knew the age-old story of David and Goliath. Baron was no Goliath, as large as he was and as much muscle mass as he had, he was as quick as a serpent and as well-educated in the wonderful world of blood and gore as one could get. Baron was composed entirely of Thoroughbred linage, racing stock and sport horses from a time long ago when the beasts were bred for stature and before human breeders began picking lighter forms of the breed. Baron was built like a warmblood, and yet the blood in his veins was as hot as a flame. He looked as if some artist had sat down for an eternity and carved him out of marble, his every detail was down to the utmost perfection. His limbs were long with cannons that fell beautifully even between knee and pastern. From behind the wither to his poll, the line you could draw was considerably longer than from the base of his wither to the dock of his tail. He was not overly short-backed like a high-level jumper happened to be, but he sure as hell wasn't long. His shade was an impenetrable hue of ebony, never to bleach in any degree of sun or fade with age. Baron's inky canvas was broken by three high socks, his front right the only exception for the pale accessory. A wide blaze cut down his facade, dipping down and around his chin. Baron was well accustomed to staining his various white markings with crimson, and he almost liked the idea. Black wasn't the best thing to showcase your victory on, and a little bit of alabaster came in handy to show off the blood of a fallen foe. The inked stallion was no stranger to the stage of the battlefield, that was certain. He'd ventured here a number of times since settling in Wild Equines to protect property and family. He had duelled before, a hundred times since being on his own and five hundred times in his training. There was little he hadn't seen, he had stopped being surprised by faked attacks and hard hits long ago. Baron technically knew better than to underestimate an opponent, and so Ra'Zakie-poo wouldn't be getting special treatment, no matter how unimpressed Baron was with the little puke. And no, Ra'Zak hadn't seen Baron angry yet. He'd seen him annoyed, sure, it was hard not to be annoyed with a mundane punk showed up and insulted your intelligence. But angry? It took a little more than that to fully engage Baron's temper to the full extent it was capable of. Words alone could not do it, it would be actions that granted you a VIP pass to his true dark side. To have a good little interview with Baron's inner monster, you had to fuck with a member of his family. You'd have to smack his daughter, rape his sister, kill his son to really truly earn yourself a one-way ticket into the ground. Ra'Zak was a distraction, a little pick-me-up from Baron's usual boring day. He was no real enemy, he was a cute little pest in need of extermination. Like a mouse one might find in their barn; sure they were cute, but they carried nasty diseases. That being said, Ra'Zak might be closer to a rat and therefore pose no hesitation what so ever to kill. A rat could occasionally be a good ally, a rat could occasionally be a half-decent pawn in the greater game of chess that occasionally took place between members of the dark alliances. But a rat was no player in that game, and a rat had no chance of becoming a player in that game. A rat could dress himself up, portray himself in any given way, make any alliance or secure any friend that could include every big time player that lived in Wild Equines. But the big players had the same kind of rat-radar, and they would treat him all the same. He'd be on the edge of the plans, the edge of the plots, never to truly nestle himself among the high ranks of Wild Equine's very finest. And burning a bridge with Baron was an excellent way to keep himself from even being in a two-mile radios of the big boys.  

          Baron moved ever deeper into the heart of the terrain, his remaining hazel pool falling to the scarred terrain at his daggers. He could easily see the various places were a pair of equines had battled, the older portions and the newer ones. He could see the torn earth, bleeding a dried grime and dirt. There should be blood, staining the flesh of the planet here or there if not for the rain washing such stickiness away. Baron was all for equality in battle, and he was careful to avoid sections of land with hills and dips present. He specifically chose an even field, flat and unimpressive with no surprises to speak of. Baron did not play dirty, there was a kind of etiquette to war he had long understood and respected. Thou shalt not fuck over thou opponent, for staters. That included but did not limit to good ol' fashioned cheating. However, beating the shit out of Ra'Zak wasn't off the table, either. He had been the one to challenge, and so he would reap the consequences of his actions, as ill-informed as they might have been. There would be no mercy once the first blow was exchanged between the two hellions, but it was not too late to back out. It was not too late for Ra'Zak to decide maybe it wasn't in his best interest to go fucking with the likes of Baron... but oh wait, yes it was. For Baron, 'mercy' had gone out the window from the moment Ra'Zak had strode into Terrivel Beleza and acted like a spoilt prick, demanding this and that from an esteemed leader and truly expecting to be appeased. The nerve of idiots these days, it was utterly astounding. Ah well, Baron didn't mind taking a little bit of time out of his day to school Ra'Zak in a thing or two. Regardless of the outcome of this particular fight, Ra'Zak wouldn't see the last of Baron. The handsome behemoth was programmed in a way that once he decided he was going to do something or not do something, there was no possible way to change his mind. If he honed in on you for whatever reason, like a fox on a vole, you'd better believe you were as good as his. Of course, his attention was a little hard to earn and even harder to keep, so such honing didn't occur very often. So Ra'Zak was going to be on the very short list of equines whose lives Baron was personally going to make living hells. Lucky lucky, wouldn't you say? Baron brought his chin to his chest, lifting his powerful crest into its usual position of collection. The sun was perched in the middle of the sky, and already Baron was barely able to keep himself still. He was pumped, ready to go at any given second for any given reason. Like a boxer in a locker room before a match, Baron could barely keep himself under control. This would be the hardest part of the fight, the waiting for the other opponent to get his fucking ass in gear. The quiet before the storm... the still that came before the explosion. Baron had quite a list of things to defend today, other than just the land. He had a couple of young children like Fenn, Deidre, and Felix. Winter Solstice had her son too, whom he'd sort of promised a safe home upon her showing up in the middle of that storm.  He had a pregnant Libitina to keep comfortable as her months of carrying his baby ran down to the wire and she swelled larger than she really ought to be swelling. Baron would say his pride was a minor thing to risk if he lost, compared to the other responsibilities that would be sticking him in the rump. And then there were the lands themselves, his beautiful Terrivel Beleza. Baron had pride for his home, the lands he reared his babies in and the lands he patrolled daily and cared for like a spouse. He was their soul ruler, with Skindred now gone. And lord help him, he would be their only ruler for as long as there was breath in his lungs. And if not him, they would go to a suitable son or daughter Baron had personally sired. The blood boiled in his veins at the very idea of this Ra'Zak... this waste of space... thinking he could pry Terrivel Beleza out of Baron's grasp. It wasn't going to fucking happen. Ra'Zak would have to do what hundreds before him had failed to accomplish and take Baron's goddamn life before considering taking the throne of Terrivel Beleza. Baron had been protective of Fading Creek as well, they had been precious to him and very much beloved by him. But not like Terrivel Beleza. Terrivel Beleza was life his wife, almost like the mother of his children, and the only consistent thing in Baron's life. Terrivel Beleza had not grown up and left him, Terrivel Beleza had not betrayed his trust or disregarded his love. In so many ways, Baron had found more in Terrivel Beleza than he'd ever found in any of his queens. He very much belonged to those lands, and they very much belonged to him.            

Muse: Good

Words: 2721

Music: None

Notes: 

4 hits
2 dodges
4 days between posts

[Deleted]

===

The game of life. Perhaps the biggest cosmic joke out there. The kind where the punchline was perhaps something only gods would laugh at. How the game picked you up, then threw you down into dirt to rot. One minute you're on top of the world, then the next you've been chewed up, spit out, and left with nothing to your name except a few scars to show the world how royally screwed over you were. The best players were the ones who could get back up from such times. The ones that stood back up and found the will to start all over, scratch out their new plan of attack. The bastards and bitches who didn't lie down. And according to those rules, Ra'Zac considered himself a pretty damn good player. How many times was it that he had found himself in such a position? How many times had he faced crushing defeat yet just brushed it off and kept walking forward into the next mess he caused? How many chances had he been given to just let it go and submit? Honestly, he'd long lost count. After the tenth or so time, he'd given up. But he was damn sure someone up beyond the clouds was having a good laugh at his expense. Maybe this time whichever deity had taken such interest in the shadowed creature would reward his persistence, or just laugh it off while delivering another failure to the list. Whatever the result, it would never be said that Ra'Zac never tried. To get ahead you had to burn bridges, char them to ash if you had to. Then, when the time was right, you could begin building them up again. With time you could get even your worst enemy to come crawling back. Some how, some way, everyone needs something from you eventually.

Baron was right about one thing in his assessment, Ra'Zac was a rat. Always was, always will be. Allied with all, but loyal only to himself. So what if no one would ever bring him in on major plans and dealings? It didn't matter. It never mattered. The only reason he'd even be interested in such goings would be if they had something he needed. Once he had it, he would break like hell away from the chaos with his prize in tow. Bitches were a favorite to ask for, but the rights to new terras or favors were just as good. And just as productive depending on what property you managed to obtain or who owed you. When to run with the new prizes however was an art. Can't have anyone going back on their word for something as simple as going AWOL, now. But there was a difference between Ra'Zac and other rats in Wild Equines was that he knew how to twist things, how to talk himself out of almost everything and anything. Traits that, to a rat like him, were worth more than gold. Especially when it kept you alive another day.

Beyond that, however, Baron was way off-track about his opponent. And god willing, this day would see that corrected.

Maybe he'd known, maybe not, but Ra'Zac had gotten to the battlegrounds first. He'd left first, right? So by sense, with no stops along the way, he'd have to have gotten there first. Creeping along the outside, stalking like a predator, he stood in silence and watched as Baron preformed the movements. Each one just as spectacular as the last. Ra'Zac watched as the Thoroughbred emperor's muscular system fell into strange patterns with each movement, optics zeroing into get a better judging of what he was clashing with. It would take more than fancy training to take out the smaller of the raven beasts, but it was still a smart move to observe. Right away the shadowed demon understood that this kind of training was not natural. Not amongst those that belonged in the wild, born and raised. It spoke volumes as to what Baron's past might've been, or what he'd at least crossed paths with in life. A small smirk appeared over his maw, the kind one would wear when cockily daring the devil himself. Ra'Zac might not be able to preform the movements of Baron, but he was far from being without grace. Lippett Morgans were a bloodline all their own. And despite being seen as stunted earlier, it was quite rare that such a Morgan would even get to 15.2. Compact, balanced, and versatile, cords of lean muscle built for speed and grace rather than brutal power. This was Ra'Zac's lineage. One Baron would surely never forget today. 

Once the dance was over, and Baron began to move further away did Ra'Zac take his first step, stretching lean limbs over the ground in an easy going walk. He was no hurry. He'd let the challenged take the lead and chose the war zone this time. Whether flat or bumpy, Ra'Zac was down for either. However, he couldn't help but be somewhat impressed by what ring Baron chose. Flat surface, hardly dusty, no surprises or tricks. An honorable tyrant. Once Baron was in position in his corner, Ra'Zac himself stalked forward, stepping through the invisible barrier with the same confidence as he had stepped into Terrivel Beleza. With that step, the atmosphere of silence that had reigned then changed. A tension made itself known throughout Ra'Zac's entire form. Spine tingling, muscles itching. The breezes that tickled through his banner irritated his scarred flesh, the gashes of healing red and pink visible against the onyx stained coat. Ivory might be a better canvas to display trophies upon, but obsidian was just as good. It meant when you began to look scarlet, you were more than likely soaked in blood. Yours, and theirs.

Without a lyric to break the air, the challenger took his own position, carbon flying out in a heavy snort when he straightened out to face Baron. He was so ready for this, so ready. For all his maturing, this would probably be the one thing he'd never grow out of: the thrill of the fight. No matter what, the thought of laying blood upon the ground gave him a thrill like no other. Using his own talons to paint the earth in crimson. Yeah, that was never going away. Oh well. [ Well, here we are. Now, let's see who's the best. ]  and like that, the silence broke. Pistons shot off, compact form racing towards the giant with a recklessness that usually brought death. The gallop ate the earth at a fast pace, the intention almost seemingly to be to ram into Baron in what surely would be a suicidal move. But Ra'Zac's speed came in at the last second, the last foot before the collision. Like a bullet, the hellion dove to the right, coming up beside his rival and raising his hinds to send a hard kick into the other body. He'd never be able to reach Baron's crown, not unless he was stupid enough to lower it, but his ribcage and withers were fair game. And that's where Ra'Zac aimed. Let's see him use those fancy moves with such an impairment.

===

words: 1243
tagged: baron & secret

name: ra'zac
breed: lippett morgan
age: 5
gender: stallion
height: 15.2hh
alliance: dark
health: 100% physical // 100% mental
attack(s): four three; feinted to the right of baron, came up beside him close and attempted a kick towards his shoulder and ribs.
dodge(s): two; none used.

[Deleted]

Name- Baron
Breed- Thoroughbred
Age- 9
Gender- Stallion
Height- 17.1hh
Alliance- Dark
Health- 100% physical, 100% mental

x. The road had been long and unforgiving, and his travel companion had lost her pizazz miles ago. Upon arriving into the vast lands of Wild Equines, Baron had been eager for some kind of break from his damned sibling. Any kind of break. Serenity was his twin sister, and there had never been a time where life for Baron had existed without her in it. Growing up, they had been silent comrades and allies against the forces that were their parents. But being born opposite genders had sent them down opposite paths. Baron's was labeled 'Heir Avenue' and was riddled with training potholes and tactical training sessions, along with frequent visits to the cells to torment slaves and prisoners. You know, all those wonderful chores and lessons that your average dark colt went through from birth. Except Baron was no 'average' colt, his future empire was a vast and powerful one composed of armies, gangs, and rivals. On the other hand, his sister had only been a kind of inconvenience to their parents. She was female, and therefore had no real value to their throne. If she was lucky they'd trade her for an alliance with another respectable dark powerhouse, and that and only that would be her life. You'd think they'd have better sense when it came to their own flesh and blood, but they'd gotten what they wanted in the form of their bouncing baby boy. A filly wasn't much in comparison, apparently. And so his sister's life took her down 'Assault and Depression Street', the extent of which had been unknown to her brother until more recent years came to pass. Serenity obviously had every single reason to want to leave the lands they'd been born in, and so did Baron, though his reasons weren't all that obvious. He'd been handed a kingdom, groomed to be a king, and yet he'd happily dropped it all just before he was meant to take the throne. To be the ruler of that particular empire, with those particular minions and those particular 'friends' was hardly a gift. It was hardly a dream, and it was never something the onyx stud had ever found himself wanting. He had felt chains around his neck in his adolescent years, and the weights of lead spheres with every step he ever took. What was a kingdom without freedom? It had always been crystal clear to Baron that in order to grasp that power, his personal sacrifice would be crippling. No, he'd elected for his own path. And naturally, his sister had craved such an escape for herself. He couldn't recall exactly announcing to her that he was leaving and she was welcome to join him, it was some unspoken conversation that had taken place during those long weeks before the pair actually left. And it wasn't long after that when they became ferociously bored with one another and increasingly irritated. They had been fighting over some stupid thing or another when they'd crossed into the domain of Wild Equines, and he had been about ready to just say 'fuck it, I don't need a sister' and ditch her there, and the feeling had been mutual. They'd agreed they needed time apart, Baron heading one way and Serenity heading in the other direction. Baron's primary goal for the first few days he'd spent here had been to get laid, assess the locals for other such ways to entertain himself, and that was about it. He'd wandered around aimlessly for a few hours, disappointed with the lack of nice asses and annoyed with the abundance of idiots, before he'd spotted something that actually interested him. There, standing in Kunipar Cliffs, had been one of most stunning slices of babe cake to ever grace his retinas. Baron wished he could say he'd fallen head over heels in love with Death at first sight, rather than the truth which was that he'd stuck around for the sheer reason that he'd just wanted to screw her. Yet to his credit and probably to hers as well, it hadn't taken long for their relationship to progress. Death was a special kind of mare, the type that was as temperamental as a hurricane and twice as damaging. She was smart, and although she had the body of a whore she had been as chaste as a light princess. He had spent hours trying the usual tricks on her, only to have his every sly word bounce off of her icy defences. She'd intrigued him with her immunity to the charms he'd known and practiced so well, since Baron had never had any sort of difficulty convincing even the most uninterested fem to join his bed. And then there was Death, with her eyes composed of liquid silver and lightning, and a tongue as biting as the lash of a whip. No mare had strangely captivated him like she had, be it because she had denied him or because she really was that special. Instead of a battle of dirty jokes and not so subtle groping, he was locked in a battle with a completely different set of rules. Eventually she was scorched onto the fabric of his brain, the soul thing he found himself wanting above any other possible prize. Clearly he had not been the only one, if she hadn't found him appealing she wouldn't have agreed to be his mate. Baron's history with Death was lengthy and complicated, especially when  you threw factors such as absences and Vendetta in the mix.

Yes, Death was the reason Baron had stayed in Wild Equines. She had bewitched him with her curves and later ensnared his emotions in a labyrinth of the dark equivalent of love. He'd had a difficult time explaining it to his sister, who was beyond angry that they were staying in these retched lands because he had been stupid enough to get involved romantically with an essa like Death. Death had been his mate on two separate occasions, the more recent one ending when they failed to find reasons to continue to be a couple. For years their union had been like a dance; a tango of passion and heartache. Occasionally he led their waltz, but more often it was Death who directed his steps and took him for dips. He would never delude himself into believing he hadn't made her suffer at all, or not like she'd made him suffer. It just wouldn't be true to make such a statement. Death had made several grand disappearances over the dance of their relationship, and during one of those relationships it had been Baron's great misfortune to meet Vendetta. In many ways, his second mate was the opposite of his first. Vendetta was composed of sunlight, her figure was slender and her height a fair bit smaller than Baron's. Come to think of it, Vendetta had been around Ra'Zak's height. She had been every bit as beautiful as Death, as much as the two females were opposites of one another. They had struck up a conversation by insulting one another and tugging on the strands of each other's sanity. Baron had been a little torn up over the absence of Death, and Vendetta had just been fucking insane. Somehow they'd formed a relationship out of that, and Vendetta had ended up joining Baron in Fading Creek. They hadn't been fucking or even heading in that direction, they had barely been tolerant of one another, but again he found himself drawn to her as he'd once been drawn to Death. And then Death showed up again, and Vendetta turned bitter and withdrawn. He managed to catch her as she was storming out of his lands, her ocean orbs swimming with discontent. He'd calmly asked her if she'd stay as beta, and after his reasoning turned into a kind of begging, she agreed. He made her queen only after Death vanished again, but by that time Vendetta had developed her own paranoid theories about what would and wouldn't happen if Death were to ever return. You see, Vendetta was her own little nutcase in an adorable golden package. But she had fooled him good by ever claiming to love him to the degree she'd convinced him she did. He had defended her with every ounce of his physical and mental abilities on multiple occasions, attempted to commit himself to her to an uncharacteristically faithful level, and tolerated her various degrees of psycho behaviour as if she was just being cute. They had lost a child, they had been separated unwillingly on a few occasions, they had dealt with injuries and obstacles and although he'd always had confidence in her he was alone in that. Maybe he shouldn't blame her for her constant lack of faith in him, but he did. She had picked a horrid time to dessert him, though maybe that had been her intent. His health had been deteriorating quickly, and he was faced with the idea that his own fate was close at hand. He had been anticipating her to be a mess, he had been anticipating her to be stricken with grief at the very suggestion she'd have to live the rest of her days without him. After all, she had always claimed to love him more than he loved her. So one could imagine his surprise at her sudden disappearance. There was no assortment of phrases or words that could possibly enlighten a stranger to the degree of damage Vendetta had done to Baron. There was no easy way to admit she had left him a tormented soul unwilling to ever trust another equine ever again. If his relationship with Death was like a dance, his relationship with Vendetta had been  like a tattoo... or a sexually transmitted disease. It burned during the process and it could not be removed no matter how hard you scrubbed. Vendetta had betrayed him worse than any mortal equine ever could, and yet no matter how much he resented the bitch, she stained his skin still. There could be a chance he would never take another mate because he may or may not have come to terms with the cold hard reality that he would always secretly think of Vendetta as his queen, even though he had no desire to deal with her ever again after their last encounter.

Baron had taken Death back after his brush with the reaper and his itty bitty vacation away from Wild Equines. She had also been pretty swollen with his foal at that time as well, the baby that would eventually be named Colette once born. Death and Baron had taken to a kind of sex-based relationship shortly after Vendetta had disappeared and shortly before Baron figured he was doomed to die and left the lands. He'd taken her back probably because she was familiar territory... there would be no surprises with her. Death became Terrivel Beleza's first queen, as she had once been Fading Creek's first queen. Together they had triplets after Colette, and then they permanently dissolved their dysfunctional marriage and Death moved out. It had been a clean process, since both had felt it would be better to part from one another. They remained as a weird set of friends, occasionally getting together to state crude things and suggest the other was unattractive. It was about as healthy of a relationship as they'd ever had, and it was better to have it that way than the alternative of hating each other. Death was free to live her own life, and he was free to live his. She could go find herself another mate and make more babies and he wouldn't so much as shrug. Baron had already tried to take another mate and make more babies, and that had ended as quickly as it had began. It would seem Baron met his queens mid-way through his relationship with their predecessor, considering that was how he'd met Vendetta and also how he'd met Skindred. Skindred had just shown up in Terrivel Beleza one day, claiming to want a job as a business woman with a moderately impressive resume. He'd agreed not so much because she was good looking, he'd agreed to let her stay for her brain. They'd strictly had a professional relationship until after he was stolen and had to get himself back home, and then upon returning she was all of a sudden too hot to handle. And the rest was twins, and a brief reign as queen. Though ironically enough, Skindred had warned him about Ra'Zak. It had been a problem he'd already been aware of, but all the same she had warned him. He could safely say he was utterly disappointed with his choice of queen the more recent time around, but Skindred had been a good queen for the short little bit of time she'd served as his mate. Yet was he defending her today? No. How the hell could he protect something that wasn't apart of Terrivel Beleza? Baron snorted, a salmon-hued tongue grazing over partially concealed enamels. The silence rang in his harks, and he listened to it because he knew it was not to last. He was distinctly aware of his own physique as well as to his surroundings, the beat of his heart and every inhale of oxygen he instinctively took. Instinct. Every equine could have the same level of training and still they would be separated between good and great because of instinct. Some were just wired to battle, some had an uncanny ability to move without thinking, and to process possible outcomes without truly realizing they were doing it. That could not be taught, it was merely something you were born with or born without. When Ra'Zak finally appeared from the shadows and took his place across the field from Baron's tremendous stature, Baron could feel the universe grow still. His mind was ticking, like a timer on a bomb. Waiting. Watching. Aware. Well, here we are. Now, let's see who's the best. Baron's ebonite harks remained in their neutral position against his handsome skull while his opponent uttered a little bit of chatter. Baron was in the zone, and one did not simply break the zone for the sake of smalltalk. His single hazel optic rested on Ra'Zak, and focused on him with fierce intent as he came hurling forward at a hideous speed. One stride, two stride, three stride, four. Five stride, six stride, about seven more. Ra'Zak could not possibly think it was wise to slam into Baron at that speed given their size differences, which meant he'd end up sliding to one side or another. Baron was blind on his left side, a fact that most seemed to forget about thanks to the mass of inked tresses that curtained the empty socket. If he were to mind his slight disability, he might assume the inevitable attack would come on the weaker side. If it were Baron, that's what he would do. He would take advantage of the hitches in his battle buddy and use them to his own advantages. It wasn't playing dirty, it was being resourceful. But you couldn't assume in battle. Instinct. Baron waited almost in a casual stance as Ra'Zak's charged, counting down the strides until the other brute would have no other choice but to leap out in whatever way. In the flash of a millisecond it took Ra'Zak to fly to the right, it took the same passage of time for Baron to tuck himself down and shoot out of reach to the left. A hind piston from his rival came dangerously close to skinning a few of Baron's eighteen ribs. Baron's haunches swung in a fluid motion, his weight rocking back to his hips. He launched forward, front limbs striking out with force enough to break the spine of a wolf or mountain lion. He aimed for Ra'Zak's sacrum, hopefully before the other bastard could recover from his own previous attack. He usually picked a major section of anatomy to try and bash right off the bat, he wasn't a feline and therefore had no use for picking at his prey. Injury was obviously just a hazard of battle, and Baron wasn't stupid enough to think he'd walk away unscathed. Despite his outer appearance, he was no God and could only ask so much of his instinct.         

Muse: Good

Words: 2824

Music: None

Notes: 

4 3 attacks - Swung around after Ra'Zak's attack, struck out at sacrum.
2 1 dodges - Leapt out of the way from Ra'Zak's attack. 
4 days between posts

[Deleted]

===

Sob stories. That's all history ever really was in the end; something to chat about in the gossip circle and have people pity you. 'She broke my heart' or 'He took my virginity then dumped me' or the all time favorite, 'My parents weren't right in the head'. Excuses, excuses. Ra'Zac's parents weren't right in the head to begin with, but they managed quite well. And he grew up to be fine as far as he was concerned. Although to be fair, Ra'Zac's father had fallen in battle with his own son. But those were the rules. Rules Ra'Zac were more than happy to get away from. Killing the old bastard had been fairly easy - Galbatorix never spent a second of time with his flesh and blood, and good god the idiot was so blinded by tradition he'd literally walked into his death without hesitation. Scratch what he said before; killing the fool wasn't easy, it had been a pleasure. And so had leaving that dust-bowl of a kingdom behind. With no warning, no goodbyes, no trace. Last he heard, the kingdom had fallen to a terrible wildfire. Everything and everyone that stayed there: burnt to ash. Ra'Zac never shed a tear over it, still didn't and probably never would. Rather he considered himself lucky. He got out while he could, long before the flames. Perhaps he was the only one to get out. What a thought. Perhaps unlikely, but still some delicious food for thought back then while he wandered about. The time in-between then and now was kind of a blur of testosterone and bloodshed as he came into his own. Alliances forged and broken. Battles waged, won, and lost. Living life on the very edge as he set to carve a name for himself into the very heart of the earth. Two in a half years of bumping in the dark, making mistakes, failure, and experience.

Sometime during those two in a half years, the demon had stumbled into the world of Wild Equines. A virtual powerhouse, full of beasts and terrors he'd yet to know. Standing at the top of that powerhouse were 'kings and queens' of the alliances. Light, Neutral, Dark. One for each. Out in the left field were the Helkaers, a separate and dark power all their own. And similar in the right field, the light souls of the Versai. Right away, even one new to this world understood that the kings and queens were the highest power. You only fell under the mercy and control of the Helkaers and Versai if you so chose or had no choice in the matter. Being a dark hearted brute, that meant in the long run, Ra'Zac would have to submit to the authority of Incognito, the Dark King. Either him, or Rigor Mortis of the Helkaers. Both choices didn't sound too savory, or beneficial. But that was the way things apparently went... at least until he saw her. She'd not seen him, but he'd seen her - all beauty and power, and a prize to be captured. The Dark Queen, Tainted Love. And oh had she tainted him. Even then, Ra'Zac never called what he had for Taint love. Obsession was the key term. Lust, desire, control, insanity. All of it was materialized in the curvacous form of Incognito's coveted queen. A queen Incognito had no interest in either. He'd tried to obtain her, over and over again. Steals, battles, alliances. Everything under the sun, all for a taste of that obsession. But in reaching and lunging for what could be his, what he wanted to be his, he slowly discovered that he only came away with empty hands and a little less of his sanity.

The final insult to the self inflicted injury was when he couldn't even form the will to battle the lord of Pendle Island. There was no prize involved, he just wanted the experience - but yet he couldn't bring himself to go to the battlegrounds afterwards. So he walked off, he walked off. Walked off, and walked out of WE completely. The battle could've done him good, it would've done him good... but when you got to the point where you just had to say 'screw it' and be done with it was a low point in life indeed. So for the last few months, he'd reevaluated himself - retrained himself, re-thought himself. Became something different, yet the same. When he came out of it, he had new scars, both mental and physical. He had new visions, still ones of grandeur but more leveled than before. And somehow he recovered some of his sanity that Taint had unknowingly stolen... but yet he couldn't shake the obsession that had overtaken his life since he appeared in Wild Equines. At least, that was, until he stepped back into the borders less than a week ago... and bumped into her. A new woman, a new face he'd never seen before, but one that drew him in ever further. Her stone and bone covered dial and tresses frightened others, her accent could make you second guess yourself about what she said when she spoke, but damn did she ever intrigue him. Without hesitation, he strode over and introduced himself. And then he too received a name. Typhiea.

That was the moment whatever invisible hold Tainted Love had over him shattered. Forget the bitch, Incognito could take her and do whatever the hell he wanted. Hell, anyone could and Ra'Zac wouldn't bat an eyelash for the Dark Queen. But Ty... Ty held no power to speak of, except whatever spell she had on him. And by every deity up there, Ty would be his. There was just the matter of the light herd she was in and getting her to a new place. An easy fix... if he Baron would move the fuck over first. It was a fierce annoyance when the behemoth of a bastard swung around like that. Had the attack landed it may have put Baron in quite the predicament. His left side was blind, but his right wasn't. Smartest move would've been to strike at the left shoulder, but the cleverest move was to disable both sides. Every instinct screamed danger, every ripple beneath the other's raven pelt giving away the signs of attack. So the very second Ra'Zac's hindquarters returned to the dust, he leaped off to the far right, moving his vulnerable spine out of the striking range just as Baron's massive daggers whizzed past the strings of hair on his hide. Had that connected, the battle might've been decided. Shimmering scythes skid over the barren domain as his weight returned to earth, muscular system kicking into overdrive in a quick hair turn to swing around and face the enemy. Pearly whites broke through stained velveteens, harks pushed down against his crown and orbs wild eyed as he charged at his opponent again. Rule one when facing bigger opponents: keep close as possible. It didn't matter how agile they were, no one of massive size could turn on you if you kept close.

A bellow erupted from the Morgan hessian as he struck out once more, aiming lower to target Baron's right gaskin with enamels wide and grasping. A connecting hard bite with a shake of the dial, and Baron would at hopefully least favor the appendage enough to give Ra'Zac the upper hand for a while providing he didn't dodge. Staying as close as he could to the emperor was a gamble, but also the best defense he could think of. Chances were Baron wouldn't be able to strike out with his fore talons again without tripping over Ra'Zac first. A dangerous scenario for both participants. And something Baron would have to be crazy not to take into consideration. Yep, sometimes being smaller was a good thing.

===

words: 1352
tagged: baron & secret

name: ra'zac
breed: lippett morgan
age: 5
gender: stallion
height: 15.2hh
alliance: dark
health: 100% physical // 100% mental
attack(s): four three two; {1} feinted to the right of baron, came up beside him close and attempted a kick towards his shoulder and ribs. || {2} got in close to baron's right side and struck at his right gaskin with his teeth.
dodge(s): two one; {1} leaped off to the right to avoid the strike.

[Deleted]

Name- Baron
Breed- Thoroughbred
Age- 9
Gender- Stallion
Height- 17.1hh
Alliance- Dark
Health- 95% physical after Ra'Zak's successful attack, 100% mental

x. Life could throw a majority of experiences in the direction of its playthings; experiences that would either make or break the mortals that crawled about the surface of Earth. Being alive was all about those challenges, rising to the occasion or cracking beneath tremendous pressure. Challenges could reap the sweetest rewards, or hand the harshest mental, physical, or emotional blows. The assortment of equines in existence had a majority of similarities to elements along the periodic table. You had your shiny metals, flashy but soft. You had your duller types that showed only slightly more resistance, and rarely you came across equines that were the whole package. The  fact of the matter remained that every mare, stallion, and foal in the population was each composed of different substance with their different degrees of hardness and their extremely interesting melting points. Physically speaking, you could tell a lot about another equine by simply looking at them and asking yourself basic questions. How were they built? Where were their injuries? Where were their scars? How big or small? How slender or wide? Were they in decent health? And so on. Yet when it came to poking about in another's brain, things became either a hell of a lot easier or a hell of a lot harder. Baron had a decent chunk of experience dealing with mentally unstable mares, after all he'd been in a lengthy relationship with Vendetta. He was a little better versed at the toils of psychological problems, and figuring out why they were the way that they were. And even then he'd been fucked over, since his deducting and analyzing hadn't been able to save him from an inevitable heartbreak. Baron was aware of his own self, his own composition and what he could and could not take. That was the whole meaning of existence: to discover those hidden points about yourself and conquering the weaker sections or not conquering them. Good parenting had taught him to educate his own offspring to accept what you were, but the more logical side of him leaned toward adapting to what you'd rather be. Baron, personally, was happiest in the role of  a father for the simple reasons that he liked himself better that way. He had first become one years ago when Death had given birth to their beautiful daughter, Argentine. The ebonite stallion hadn't known what to expect with it came to being a father, but he'd been sold on the idea from the moment he'd spotted his first child. Argentine was her mother in just about every single possible way. She had her mother's look, her mother's attitude, and her mother's uncanny ability to get whatever she wanted out of Baron. Torn came next, his first son also emerging also from Death's womb. Baron had his first taste of parental failure with Torn, though it was short-lived  after the colt became an adult and the father and son talked things out. After Torn was a collection of thirty-six other babies, all of which Baron could name and had been involved with for whatever degree of time that they had lived. The inked king had been alive for nine years, over the course of those nine years he'd been through three queens and fathered thirty-eight children. He'd been forced into training from birth, fought for what was his, and as far as that went had done his job as the male of his race. He had spent gruelling months tortured and informed on matters he'd been happily obvious to, and he had lost an eye in a fairly unsavoury manner during that piece of time and didn't regret it. Challenges were all part of life, and  Baron wouldn't delude anyone into thinking he didn't secretly enjoy them. For Ra'Zak, this was hardly the most difficult thing he'd ever been through. Even to lose wouldn't take the cake, not after losing his own flesh and blood prior. Family came before all else, and his children were the most prized creations wandering around Wild Equines and the surrounding world. Baron had lost too many of them to bare thinking about, from natural causes or otherwise. Parents were not meant to outlive their children, as every decent parent knows and knows well. And he would give up Terrivel Beleza a hundred times over if it might restore the life of even one of his many deceased little ones. But since no unearthly deal currently existed, Terrivel Beleza was not up for grabs in any way, shape, or form. For his current and future children he would defend his home to the finest of his abilities and to the brink of his physical and mental boarders. Because that was just Life.
   
The wind was singing high above, hissing away to the trees off to the sidelines of the battlefield as if narrating the events that were unfolding to some unseen observer. And in that moment, Baron almost found himself thinking of Skindred, and what smug look he might find gracing her fine features upon his return to Terrivel Beleza. He would have welcomed that cocky little 'I told you so' from her, since to get one would mean that she'd be around to taunt him with it. Instead he only had children awaiting his return and a herd mare or three. Elyse would undoubtedly be aware her father was in the middle of a duel, his middle child with Vendetta had recently returned home and reconnected with her sire. And her younger sister Constance, who had her own toils as she swelled with a foal she did not want. Fenn was young, maybe even too young to understand the rules and regulations of what a battle was. Felix and Deidre both lived with their respective mothers, Deidre in Toxin Raj with her bitch of a mother, and Felix formerly living in what used to be Paratas. The two foals, though differing in age, had one thing in common. They were both created during one of Baron's many less than proud moments. Deidre had been the aftermath of his disgusting debauchery with the painted whore named Narcissa. Narcissa had brought her fate down upon herself, not so different from what Ra'Zak was currently doing. She had stolen Baron out of the blue, with no former relationship with him other than she just wanted to stir the put and get a rise out of Death. Instead she'd thoroughly annoyed the hell out of Baron, and in return he'd happily given her a taste of her own medicine. He plucked her out of her own home in the same manner as she had done to him, and then took it upon himself to one-up her in their pointless little feud. Before he let her stroll back out of Terrivel Beleza, he gave her the very convincing option of sleeping with him in exchange for her freedom. Which she took, because whores did what whores did best. Not that she had been good, the whole experience had been more of a rape for Baron than it had been for Narcissa, he was certain. The irony of now having to be civil with her because his own actions had lead to the creation of a daughter was not lost on Baron, either. Felix had come about in a different way that was quite a bit less vile. His mother was a overo essa that went by the name of Bones. Bones had lived with Predator, and Bones had slept with Baron because Baron could be pretty convincing when heading in the direction of sex and possible babies. Circumstance had kept Baron from meeting his son with the wench until recently, and he was a handsome colt his mother had named Felix. Baron had done a great deal of other shameful things that had led to babies without him meaning for them to lead to babies, those were just a couple of examples. And maybe Bones didn't count, since during that period of time he'd very much taken a liking to mixing his genetics with ladies of interesting colours. But Narcissa had certainly been an accident, nobody in their right mind would go planting a seed in that steaming pit of manure. All the same he'd been given another beautiful daughter, though unfortunately from Narcissa. Although contrary to his opinion of whatever mare had bore him a child, Baron had always devoted the same degree of adoration to each and every one of his children. He was well aware a child didn't get the luxury of picking what parents they were bestowed upon, and he would never make his children suffer for the sins of their mother... or for his own sins. He would completely understand Ra'Zak if one of his former sins involve the other hellion or a loved one of his. If Ra'Zak was Predator, the situation would be that not only had Baron violated his ex, but also impregnated one of his herd mares. That was playing with fire, and would justify some kind of war between the two dark hellions. But this... whatever you could call it with Ra'Zak was due to no former vendetta. Baron had never met Ra'Zak, only head a small chunk about the little Morgan through the usual grapevine. Why Baron himself had been chosen to bring down to the battlefield was its own interesting mystery. If you were going to pick a piece of dark mainland to challenge for, why pick one of  the most active, thriving terrains out of the bunch? Why not go for one without a pulse, or one that had less of a pulse than Terrivel Beleza? The alternative was pick one at random, which was about the stupidest thing a stallion could do upon first entering the splendid empire of Wild Equines. No... Baron would never believe that he had been targeted at random. If by 'random' you meant 'being a shit disturber' then yes, Ra'Zak would be on the same page as Baron in terms of why Terrivel Beleza was currently on the line. Baron wasn't a fucking moron, equines like Ra'Zak might was well come with giant neon signs that screamed 'I AM FUCKED IN THE HEAD'.     

Ra'Zak was hardly playing his cards close to the chest, his strategies  as predictable as they were flawed. There was no safe place to be around a stallion such as Baron, not in combat. Any uninhibited equine could touch their hip with their mug in a single, fluid motion without batting an eyelash. Borderline hugging your opponent like a clingy slut was not something Baron would ever consider the best tactical action to make, especially with a larger opponent with a wider range of motion. The only real thing Ra'Zak was disabling was Baron's ability to use his front pillars to their maximum striking abilities. But he was risking so much more to keep away from something Baron would have to be precise about using anyway. Ra'Zak may have avoided any damage to his sacrum, but he had plenty other bones ripe for the breaking. The Morgan made another swipe, this time with ivories aimed for the flesh of Baron's lower flank. Kinky, but a place composed of more muscle than vital ligaments or tendons. It was the hot rush of his own lifeblood cascading along his inner appendage that addressed an injury, the pain numbed by the adrenaline that pumped through his physique at a rapid pace. A pair of two conjoining patches of crumbled flesh leaked a thick, vibrant crimson from broken vessels and ruptured veins. Already a steady series of paths had formed a perfect triage of red trails down his ivory sock, running down the slate of his dagger and impregnating the soil with Baron's gore. But the true extent of the damaged muscle would be felt in days, not moments. Had he hit a tendon, things might be a little different.  But the principle was the same, Ra'Zak had made a connecting hit and Baron would give him an A for effort. Baron shot his bloodstained dagger outward, in a corresponding arch to Ra'Zak's vulnerable throat, hopefully before his opponent recovered from his own successful hit. A large ebonite shoulder braced within the confides of its socket as Baron sent the full brunt of his weight in the general direction of Ra'Zac's chest. It should be nice and open for a body-check if he'd managed to spring out of the away of the kick Baron had just thrown at him. Like a snake, Baron's thick nape launched out with fangs specifically aimed for a section just up from the jugular groove that cascaded down the bottom section of Ra'Zak's nape. Killing Ra'Zak wasn't something Baron would do, not comfortably anyway. Sure he had a limited degree of respect for the prick, he had a greater respect for the integrity of his own reputation and the reputation of his beloved Terrivel Beleza. This wasn't the honour of his daughter, his mate, or his sister and therefore would not warrant more of a bloodlust than a duel over lands. And besides, if Baron wanted Ra'Zak's life he would have added it to the pile at stake in exchange for the mare Ra'Zak had hinted at earlier.  But again, this was not a bloodsport and Baron's herd mares and family were not worth risking. Even if he did win, he'd have his balls handed to him at the mere suggestion that it was up to him to gamble with the lives of his herd mares. He flat out wouldn't do it with his children, not for anything or anyone. No matter how sure he was of a victory, or how rich the spoils might be if he were to put them on the line, there was no possible way he'd bet them like pawns. It was what separated him from the animals that made up the rest of his family, his hellish father, his demonic half brother, and his idiot mother. However, Baron had shed the blood of his own genes. He had drunk deep when the monster dwelling within him was unleashed and had required that sustenance, and he had no regrets for returning another demon back to the realm of the underworld. He had been lenient with the worm-ridden apples on the branches of his family tree for far too long, and murdering the only remaining one had seemed like the only decent thing to do. Had his sire still lived, he would have been next. In comparison to all the other evil creatures Baron had dealt with and disposed of over the years he had been alive, Ra'Zak was small potatoes and Baron would not risk another mark on his already blackened eternal soul; not even for a mere bit of pleasure.    

Muse: Moderate

Words: 2539

Music: None

Notes: 

4 3  2 1 attacks -  1) Swung around after Ra'Zak's attack, struck out at sacrum. 2) Cow-kicked in the direction of Ra'Zak's throat. 3) Attempted to body-check Ra'Zak with a shoulder and struck out in the area of his jugular groove. 
2 1 dodges - 1) Leapt out of the way of Ra'Zak's attack. 
4 days between posts

[Deleted]

===

With the connection of enamel to flesh, the time to reminisce was finally over. In the war zone there was no time for such frivolous thoughts. The taste of first blood washing through his maw was a stark reminder. Keep your mind in the game and block out everything else. And that's what Ra'Zac did accordingly. Fangs bore down into the hard muscle of his opponent. Each canine attempting to dig in deeper. To try and deal as much damage as possible before the threat of retribution. Exactly how much damage and movement were affected would not be apparent immediately, sad as it was to say. But Ra'Zac gave it his best shot. And perhaps had Baron been a less bulked beast the attack would've had more of an immediate effect. Still, should the injury not prove helpful to the ebonite demon's cause it would give Baron a nice little reminder in days to come. But this one little injury was only the first blood drawn. The battle was just starting and Ra'Zac was just getting pumped up. Pearls released their ironclad grip on bloodied flesh as an assassin's dagger reached up from the gored appendage, but not fast enough to dodge. Boa coiled back, thorns pinned down into strings of darkness as the kick connected soundly to his now exposed chest and sliced open a large gash through the flesh. Blood brewed up from the fresh injury, warmth welling up from the angry red chasm to spill down the black hearted stag's chest and forelimbs. For as bad as it looked it wasn't a vital hit. With a little time the stream of blood would halt. Had Ra'Zac not released his prey when he had it could've been much worse.

Adrenaline and the system shock only managed to dull the incoming pains for a moment. The next one after had Ra'Zac wincing violently. The best description of what he was feeling was fire. As though a hot iron was being held against the tender torn flesh. Yet the pain was to be relished in, never regretted. If and when he managed to tear away what he longed for the trophies of his excursions would always remind himself and others of what happened. Of who he faced and conquered. Baron's presence closing in from the Ra'Zac's left erased any other thoughts of such foolishness. The current emperor of Terrivel Beleza was launching another attack, one that took away whatever advantage Ra'Zac may have in close combat with the added sneak attack of flashing pearls reaching for what the talon had missed. But neither would hit the challenger. Limbs sprung into motion. Bodice twisting around to his far right Ra'Zac showed his rear to his rival. Lining up vertically to Baron's form, and underneath the compact figure the spinal column arched. In turning right the body-check missed its intended target completely. Baron's shoulder would only hit empty air where a chest and barrel would've been otherwise. Another shot of pain stung against Ra'Zac's rump. The familiar feeling of teeth repaying him for the attack of before in kind. Lifeblood spewed from the injury, drizzling over his hips and staining the strings of his tassel in dark crimson. A matching warpaint for his tattered front. And like that injury hardly worth note...yet.

The Morgan's spine continued to coil beneath sinewy strings of muscle. Coil and tense until Ra'Zac let the pressure snap free. Pillars shot the hessien a good foot off the ground in a hard buck. Hind limbs striking for purchase against any blood and bone body in the general the direction of the massive Thoroughbred. The action threw droplets of scarlet up over Ra'Zac's back and against the dusty earth. With any luck Baron wouldn't have time to dodge. With luck. So far this bastard was proving to be more trouble than Ra'Zac had assumed he'd be. It was both an annoyance and a breath of fresh air. Yes, the deities of Wild Equines were cut from a much different cloth than what was normally seen. But even the strongest and most dazzling cloth would fade and wear with time. Baron's time had been long past due according to the math. Terrivel Beleza was active, its pulse as strong as a it would perhaps ever be. But how many challenges had Baron honestly had for his turf? And what battles had he won and lost before, if any? All interesting questions but with no time to answer. The assassin's weapons returned to earth with a clap to spring him to a short distance hardly a bound away. Appendages steadying into a high stepped trot with the beast's flag held high in the wind, audits flickering to view from the onyx banner gracing the beautifully arched crest. Muscles moved to turned their master back to face his enemy. That smirk he was so known for crawled over his maw while a twinkle lit his orbs.

The distance between them wasn't much. It was enough to invite Baron to use his front talons if he so wished though. If he could catch Ra'Zac quick enough to use them. A hairpin cut had the Morgan's direction change, veering to the left in his flashy dance. Figure looking every bit relaxed but all muscles ready for the challenge. If Baron attacked Ra'Zac would meet him head on. And with all eagerness the younger one tried to goad his elder into the invitation. No lyrics were sung. No baritones stained the clear air of the azure skies. Everything Ra'Zac said was spoken with each tap of the hoof against the flat ground. Each small stone kicked across the battleground by his movements. Every muscle movement and wave of his banner. And no message could be clearer than if it was carried by the wind that tangled the leaves. 'You want me? Come and get me then. You want to crush me to dust. I dare you to try it.' But would Baron take the bait?

===

words: 1039
tagged: baron & secret

name: ra'zac
breed: lippett morgan
age: 5
gender: stallion
height: 15.2hh
alliance: dark
health: 93% physical - a deep gash upon his chest; bite wound on the rump // 100% mental
attack(s): four three two one; {1} feinted to the right of baron, came up beside him close and attempted a kick towards his shoulder and ribs. || {2} got in close to baron's right side and struck at his right gaskin with his teeth. || {3} lined his rear to Baron and kicked.
dodge(s): two one zero; {1} leaped off to the right to avoid the strike. || {2} turned quickly to his right, maligning his body with Baron's shoulder. all dodges used.

[Deleted]

Name- Baron
Breed- Thoroughbred
Age- 9
Gender- Stallion
Height- 17.1hh
Alliance- Dark
Health- 95% physical after Ra'Zak's successful attack to his gaskin, 100% mental

x. You simply could not put a price on your harem. It was similar to saying you simply could not put a price on a fine bottle of aged merlot, or if Baron was involved, then good pussy was probably a more accurate comparison. Yet Terrivel Beleza was less expendable than a whore or even a queen, since both seemed to come and go at a similar rate for the ebonite hellion. Women were fickle, as he'd well learned, and the only thing that made up for his lack of a suitable partner was his fortune in owning a stunning piece of property. He had called Terrivel Beleza his for a little over a year now, not all that long when you factored in that Baron had been a part of the Wild Equines social scene for closer to six years. For the rights to Fading Creek, Baron had graced the battlegrounds two or three times to defend his modest stretch of lands. For his former queens, Baron had found himself here probably the same number of times to defend his right to their wombs. But recently? No, he couldn't say anyone had been stupid enough to cross him in such a way. He had been the undisputed ruler of Terrivel Beleza for as long as the beautiful lands had lain in existence. He'd figured the other residence of the dark herds had steered clear for their respective reasons; most of which involved that they had no desire to have their lives shucked before their very eyes. Like an ear of corn, Baron had no problem pulling away the layers of a foe's sanity and picking apart the pretty silver hairs until his jaws met the bare golden flesh that remained. Sweet and succulent, revenge was a dish best served after it had been tenderized and marinated for the proper amount of time... or harvested at the proper time of year. Regardless of the outcome that befell Baron today, when all was said and done there would be a cloud on the horizon for Ra'Zak. If for some cruel ungodly reason Terrivel Beleza were to change hands, that cloud would erupt like a tornado with a ferocity the likes of which had never been seen  and would never be seen in Wild Equines again. If things were to continue in the route they currently were, Ra'Zak might not see Baron right away for retaliation. Just like he'd done with Narcissa, he'd wait for the ideal opportunity and plan his method of attack accordingly. He was a powerful friend to have, since when you'd been around as long as he had it was hard not to be known, and had he been approached with terms of allegiance he might have been compliant with the likes of Ra'Zak. But there would be no exchange of friendship between the two, and that hadn't been Baron's stupid choice. Instead he would consider Ra'Zak to be an enemy of his family, be it if they resided in Terrivel Beleza or not. Maybe Ra'Zak wouldn't sit so low in the dirt to join the likes of Snowfire, but he'd be deep and dirty to say the least, the little piggy that he was. If Ra'Zak had a lady friend he was rolling around with, or a newborn crawling a nursery, one of them or both of them would be viable candidates for such revenge. But that was just stating the obvious, wasn't it? Speaking of which, this was one of the perks of not having a mate. Since Baron currently didn't have one, that meant he didn't need to worry about what shit she was getting herself into or who might want to have a go at her ass because of his actions. When you topped it off with keeping her ass happy, a queen was almost more trouble than she as worth. And in all of Baron's cases, she was more trouble than she was worth. Still, it would be nice to get some kind of royal treatment upon his return home - again, regardless of the outcome. He might have daughters to cry over him and whores to fuck him, but Baron was a bit of a hopeless romantic despite his best attempts to be the opposite. Life would be so much easier to not have a mate, just like Life would be so much better if he kept his damned lands. But life didn't work the way you wanted it to at times because Life could be a royal bitch as easily as she could be a tender mistress.
 
When he was finished here the first place he'd haul his carcass off to would be the soothing, crystalline waters of  the broad river that cut its way through Terrivel Beleza. Like a liquid saint it would wrap wings around his well worked bodice and lull him into a delightful state of numbness. Blood and sweat would lift from his inked hues and he would be left with fresh wounds to tend to and heavy thoughts upon his mind. If he were victorious, the first thing on his agenda would be seeking out another mate. Not for him, but to have another strong, stable thing to hold down the fort when he was called away for shit like this. If he were to come out on the lower end, grasping nothing but loss and humiliation, he would stand in those waters and compose a game plan that would include returning again, and again, and again until Terrivel Beleza was once again in his name. But that was the future, and this was the present. In the present, endorphins swam heavily in his veins and any pain or soreness he might be secretly feeling was well concealed by the body's natural equivalent of morphine. Baron was like a football player with a sprain, still very much in the game and more or less oblivious to whatever physical toils he might be plagued with. He knew he had an open wound that was currently spewing gore all over his hind pillar, and that was the extent of his knowledge. The inked warrior narrowed his hazel sphere at the smaller shadow-hued Morgan. It was a look of general distaste, as if he were gazing upon a fly in his soup. And then they were waltzing again, in the violent sort of way that only came about in such a situation. Baron's steps rolled from the toes of his daggers, agile and free-moving. He moved as if he was made entirely of gelatine, mobile and  without hindered muscles or stiff joints. His core was fluid, granting him an almost slippery ability. His magnificent crest compressed and stretched as it needed to, and as it lashed toward Ra'Zak his ivories collided with the flesh of the other bastard. Baron was no cannibalistic psychopath, there was no unquenchable thirst lingering in his gut for the taste of a fellow equine's blood. And yet when it came to battle, there was something only slightly sadistic about how much he enjoyed the taste upon his pallet. The familiar tang of salt and metal cloaked his tongue, a few drops unavoidably rolling down his throat as he sank his jaws into the flesh of Ra'Zak's chest. His mind stayed sharp, he wasn't moronic enough to get too caught up in the jollies of a single solitary flesh wound. When his boulder-like shoulders missed the weasel-like form of his opponent, Baron's physique followed through with the motion and his pillars stepped simultaneously to the side. His corresponding strike was successful, though not to the portion of anatomy he'd originally aimed for. Another cascade of blood overcame his senses, hanging heavily in his nares in a pungent haze of perfume and cascading down his chin. He didn't get the chance to savour it as much as he might have liked, not when Ra'Zak hurled his hind pillars in his direction. His massive ribcage suppled as Baron took to stand on a more solid patch of ground, his entire frame gliding to the side and out of harm's way. His daggers moved across the terrain as nimble and light as the footfalls of a ballerina, barely scuffing the grass below as the edges of Ra'Zak's closest hoof grazed his shoulder.

And like a pansy, the precious black butterfly was fluttering away on invisible wings. Baron stood where he was, pupil dilated and sending his hazel orb into a sea of coal and shadow, the other revealing nothing but an empty socket. He was hunched up and steaming, sweat glinting upon his broad chest and alight across his flanks. He had Ra'Zak fixated in a kind of animalistic stare, blood dripping off his facial whiskers and splattered across his ivory blaze and submerging his ivory and ebony chin in a deep shade of crimson. Salted lips pulled back in a snarl to reveal enamels washed red, demonic in the hazy sunlight they gnashed together with an audible grind. The ends of his grimy banner flicked back and forth with the same predatory motion as a leopard about to pounce, ever tendon hanging straight and wound with the itch to spring. Muscles rolled, his heart pounding with the rhythmic lubb-dubb, lubb-dubb of a calculating predator assessing its next move to ensnare its victim. Ra'Zak wasn't all that far away, smirking like a smug little idiot and trying to instigate another attack out of Terrivel Beleza's king. A front dagger gouged the ground at his feet, tearing up the earth's own flesh and laying it exposed. Ra'Zak was queuing him forward the way a matador would instigate a bull, and Baron wasn't going to have any of it. With a kind of beautiful terror, he swung his hips in a forward step as he walked his way over with the same intent orb with lips that had morphed into something between a sneer and a full on grin. Carbon flew from his nares in bellows and sucked in oxygen hungrily, every exhale and inhale like the breath of a freight train. His hind sock was almost entirely maroon, and a throbbing had begun where his ebonite skin had been slashed back to reveal pink tissue. Full drops of blood clung to his banner as it intentionally came around and stung the open wound to enlighten his senses even more. Ever step was like that of an approaching tiger, tawny and precise in a kind of stalk. He wouldn't charge, and he wouldn't leave room for air. If Ra'Zak moved, Baron was prepared to move as well. If he struck out, Baron would make sure he met nothing or nothing of great importance. And when the pair were within duelling distance once more, Baron's lungs hissed and a rumbling began deep within the centre of his larynx. Like thunder over the sky, like a volcano spewing fire from the bowels of the earth, like a gator purring in the murk of a swamp. It was a guttural sound, a threatening sound. And he paired it with his front end lifting from the surface of the planet as if preparing to strike like he'd done previously. Knees rose to nearly brush the bottom of his chest, and at his maximum height his nape swayed his crown around like the neck of a viper. Except such a strike with one front dagger did not occur, not like he'd done the first time he'd made a swipe at Ra'Zak. Instead Baron pounced forward and made to bring the full force of his weight down upon the right collection of ribs his opponent possessed. Already stained ivories reached to grab the crest of Ra'Zak's nape as his physique came down, meant to pull him off his daggers or at least give him a sizeable bald spot. The homestead of the great behemoth was on the line, and with it the respect of his children and his own well-kept pride. All he was he was on the battlefield, and his success was no longer in his own clutches. The winner crowned and the loser disavowed, it would all become evidently clear soon enough.   

Muse: Okay

Words: 2088

Music: None

Notes: 

4 3  2 1  NO MORE attacks -  1) Swung around after Ra'Zak's attack, struck out at sacrum. 2) Cow-kicked in the direction of Ra'Zak's throat. 3) Attempted to body-check Ra'Zak with a shoulder and struck out in the area of his jugular groove. 4) Reared up and attempted to slam down on Ra'Zak's ribs while simultaneously lunging for the top of his neck.  
2 1  NO MORE dodges - 1) Leapt out of the way of Ra'Zak's attack. 2) Jumped to the side to avoid Ra'Zak's kick. 
4 days between posts

** Since Baron is out of attacks and dodges, this is my last post unless Snowy has any objections. 

[Deleted]

===

A matador? Yes that was probably true. Some crazy fool waving their flimsy flag trying to elicit a response from the hulking mass before them. Cut left, trot, cut right, fling tassel, smirk, and repeat in the other direction. Onyx gazers narrowed. Vision shortened into one small tunnel that connected right with the emperor's single binocular. The challenge clear as day. These small time injuries were nothing. Breaks of ruby through the obsidian sea nothing new. Pistons paused their movements. Hind limbs coiled down like springs ready to pounce. It was Baron's move now. And despite what common sense should've been screaming not to do Baron chose to move forward. The king's pillars lifted slowly, stalking like a predator creeping up on its prey. Fool. There was only one predator here. And the prey was falling right into his trap. Charging in head first or no, Baron still took the bait. The whole purpose of the show was to bribe the beast to come further in. To close the distance himself. And that was exactly what was happening. But Ra'Zac couldn't blame him. The clash between them, however it should go, was ending. There was only one last chance to impress Fate and see who'd she smile upon. After this it'd be lifted up to her hands.

With each step the large king took Ra'Zac grew ever tense. Muscles coiled, twin towers falling from alertness to swim in the onyx sea. Whip flicking against the torn and bloodied hindquarters to fling blood across the landscape. The splatters wouldn't be there come the next few hours, but for a while it would prove that this was the place two gladiators clashed for the rights to a homeland. Whichever one was named the victor was still in question, and answers would only be forthcoming... now. Baron was within distance rumbling like some demonic creature spat out of Hell itself. Ruby nares flared in response. Fore talon scarring the earth while ghostly carbons escaped burning lungs to fill with life giving oxygen. Preparations for what was coming. Baron rose heavenward. Towering over his small usurper like some god dealing out judgement. But from this Ra'Zac would not flee. If judgement was coming, the demon would face it head on. Weight shifted, front bracing down and backside twisting to expose itself once again. It was probably not a wise move to use the same attack again, but what choice did he have now? He was not suicidal enough to meet Baron in the air, a collision that Ra'Zac probably would not come out on top of if at all. This was the only option he could think of.

The strike was rushed. Hooves blindly striking out for whatever flesh they could. Whether or not they connected was unknown. For as he struck out white searing pain flashed through his vision. The roar of agony and the endless white blocking out everything before being replaced with a horrific kind of numbness. Knifes flailed at the earth. Limbs moving in pandemonium. All instincts throwing out everything except for mere survival. When the haze lifted, he found himself a few meters away from the immediate area of final clash. Collapsed on the terra and trying hard just to breathe. A moment of peace to get his bearings together and he assessed over his new damage. Baron's attack had not missed its mark by much. By turning for the kick he'd allowed Baron to fall upon his backside. He'd not be surprised if he had a few hairline fractures somewhere around his hip bones. A gasp escaped Ra'Zac as he climbed back to full height, but found himself unable to set weight on his right hind. The leg itself wasn't broken thank God. But he was right to assume there was a fracture somewhere in there. He'd be the first to admit that was a stupid idea. That could've been a lot worse.

That wasn't all. Baron's ivories had found another area of flesh to tear into. His right flank was now covered in crimson. A good chunk of tender flesh was probably missing. Or maybe it was hidden beneath the cover of blood. He couldn't tell yet. Not until he had a full chance to assess himself. Taking a pained breath only resulted in a hacking cough that sent claws of pain down every nerve in his form - best to add a bruised somewhere on the injury list too. Still, despite it all he couldn't stop the smirk from crawling across his maw. He'd not run, he'd not backed down. And whether Baron walked away victorious or he there was no one who could say he'd not given it his best shot. A hacking chuckle escaped Ra'Zac's dry throat while optics turned back to the other gladiator on the field. Daredevil smirk widening as the challenger stood defiant still. [ Fun stuff. We'll have to do this again sometime. ] and with that, he turned. Pillars moving slowly to carry him away from the stained field. Now he remembered why he loved it here. Yes indeed these kings and queens were cut from another cloth altogether... but now could he be counted amongst them? Or would he have to try again elsewhere? And Fate's answer...?

===

words: 906
tagged: baron & secret

name: ra'zac
breed: lippett morgan
age: 5
gender: stallion
height: 15.2hh
alliance: dark
health: 69% physical - a deep gash upon his chest; bite wound on the rump; two hairline fractures on the left side of the pelvis, a bruised left rib and a very deep bite wound on the right flank // 100% mental
attack(s): four three two one zero; {1} feinted to the right of baron, came up beside him close and attempted a kick towards his shoulder and ribs. || {2} got in close to baron's right side and struck at his right gaskin with his teeth. || {3} lined his rear to Baron and kicked. || {4} turned around as Baron rose up and struck out with his hind hooves. all attacks used.
dodge(s): two one zero; {1} leaped off to the right to avoid the strike. || {2} turned quickly to his right, maligning his body with Baron's shoulder. all dodges used.

THIS BATTLE CAN NOW BE JUDGED

[aliyaah]

I will tally.

[aliyaah]

SECRET WITH BARON

Roleplayer & Character: Secret and Baron
Quality of Quantity: 11
Comments:

• I did find myself a little distracted with other things going on at time. The first few posts kept me interested but it dragged on a little long without changing the tempo as it moved on.
• Very interessino posts. Never lost focus and just wanted to read more. Had wanted to read more about the battle itself though.
• I feel like you use a lot of barons past to create filler text. It kinda made it hard to get through your post because you would have two massive paragraphs of Barons life, and then one itty bitty paragraph of what was going on right then and there sorta thing.

No God Modeling or Power Playing: 15
Comments:

• didn't see any

Realism of Attack: 15
Comments:

• very purposeful. i could easily picture a realistic horse mounting these attacks
• Very outstanding attacks and interesting. Powerful and straight to the point
• I think you managed to capture the battle quite elegantly with the size differences and abilities, but not leaving out the disadvantages that came with Baron himself.

Attack Compared to Opponent: 15
Comments:

• VERY specific without god-modeling.Precise descriptions.
• Enjoyable and noticeable attacks
• I liked your reactions of how Baron managed to react in terms of Ra'zacs attacks

Completion of the Form: 15
Comments:

• Very well filled out form and easy to follow what was going on in the fight.

Spelling and Grammar: 13
Comments:

• Didn't see anything wrong
• You have some grammar errors by just posting it within Word, something you may try after you create your post to kind of help with run on sentences and fragments. Also I feel like there are a lot of times you'll repeat a bunch of things. like The Rat and Baron's homelands name. While talking about them You would start the sentence over and over and over again with these and grew really repetitive.

TOTAL: 84

SNOWY WITH RA'ZAC

Roleplayer & Character: Snowy and Ra'zac
Quality of Quantity: 14
Comments:

• Not too long, not too short. Could have used a bit more detail though.
• Very straight to the point replies. Not hanging around in other things too much. Brings out the flow of the battle and gives it a shine. Can see improvements from earlier battles.
• I feel like you were not quite as focused on the past but more on the here and now which I preferred.

No God Modeling or Power Playing: 15
Comments:

• Didn't see any

Realism of Attack: 14.5
Comments:

• They seemed real but I could see a colt doing some of these moves in a play fight. I want to see more intent of severely harming your opponent.
• Interesting attacks and some thoughts had been put in them.
• I think you did fairly good in incorporating the height difference and disadvantages between, however I think you could have played a bit more on Baron's weakness's because of how you portrayed him as being such an observant equine, it kinda struck me odd that he missed like Baron having only one eye on his right side.
  

Attack Compared to Opponent: 11.5
Comments:

• Could ave bene more specific with location/purpose.
• Baron's attacks were a bit more stronger and more powerful. Best set of attacks I have seen from you though. Ver well done.
• Same as before with just the observant vs missing the small details that could have given him a much more edge.

Completion of the Form: 15
Comments:
Spelling and Grammar: 12.5
Comments:

• Didn't see anything wrong
• Some spelling/typing mistakes and some grammar mistakes.
• You have a lot of grammar errors. A quick copy and paste into a Word processor or such can help you quickly correct these!

TOTAL: 82.5

CONGRATS TO SECRET WITH BARON