[Deleted]

D I A V O L O

i said i'd fight back, i didn't say that i'd fight fair !

Name- Diavolo
Breed- Shire x Friesian x Belgian x Vladimir Draft x Gelderlander x Tennessee Walking Horse x Schwarzwalder Fuchs x Irish Draught
Age- Six
Gender- Stallion
Height- 19hh
Alliance- Dark
Health- 100%
Mental Health- 100%

Vibrant swirls and splashes of crimson, citrus, and sun flares speckled the forestry within the free territories as autumn began to take hold of the weather. Cool, crisp air currents struggled to maintain consistency as some of the intangible forces violently ripped at anything resting upon the territory before settling down to a gentle breeze. The frosty gusts felt like millions of invisible hypodermic needles being injected into one’s flesh all at once if they stood too far out in the open. The sky was doused in a glorious sapphire stain with the occasional splatter of ivory and silver. The earth was beginning to dry out and once emerald blades were now yellowed with the approaching onset of winter. Soon the fields and valleys would be blanketed with white and returned to an immaculate state. Only then was the world at its finest beauty when it was painted with all varying shades of scarlet from pink to crimson so deep it appeared to be ebony. Only then would the rest of society be able to see the work of a murderer in all of its bloodied glory. The natural shades of the earth ruined the clean lines and finely crafted blue prints. Snow blotted out the obscure canvas and equalized the playing field for everyone. All mistakes and perfections were viewed and judged equally. At that point then the purpose was perfect. Winter was a patron of death.

But to be perfectly honest, the infernal empire of Carnevale Letale was a divine patron of death. Even in its less than majestic state, it was still formidable in comparison to the other kingdoms of Wild Equines. There were no rivals and there would never be anyone who could boast any amount of talent against them. In all three years of its existence, it had witnessed some of the greatest upheavals and beginnings and ends of various eras. And a new era would rise as the identical twin of its former and true king carried the weight of the crown. What would the rest of Wild Equines think? Once they found Lucifer’s identical twin brother at the seat of the throne would they expect the same behavior of him as they had of Lucifer? It was a curious thought for sure. It would be interesting to see how the rest of society would react when the announcement was established within the public and it would be. This was not going to be a shift in ranks that would be kept quiet. Regardless if he won this battle or not, which he had to win either way, it would become very well-known who bore the crown now.

Diavolo had to win this fight. Carnevale Letale deserved to sit upon that land more so than some coat tail riding cunt did. That’s all Zephyr was at this point. The bay stag had done nothing except challenge the empire and won against the three year old former king. It was kind of a no brainer that an older veteran would win against an inexperienced three year old but the mahogany brute would meet his match now. It had nothing to do with Diavolo’s gargantuan size against the smaller stag. That only left Zephyr with an advantage but that was fine. Zephyr would need all the advantages he could get now. The larger hellion had already formed his attack strategy earlier in the day and he was quite pleased with it. He expected to take some serious damage in this battle and he would happily deal some in return. The two beasts had agreed to not using any dodges in this fight and that left an array of options of battle strategies Diavolo could potentially use. And he was not ignorant enough to think he would not have to adapt his tactics. Zephyr was certain to attempt to throw him off and use an attack he did not see coming. That is how most of the battles in Wild Equines had been done. It was puerile and stupid in Diavolo’s opinion. Why would one keep doing the same thing over and over again and expect a different result? Only because Wild Equines was ripe with ignorant bastards who thought they were kings of the world and had the rights to everything they touched and slutty whores who had been fucked over enough they did not have a brain cell left in their skulls. Absolute ignorance seeped out of every crevice of this place.

The ignorance had been proved by the hessian that challenged for the land in the first place as well. This piece of the story is what had Diav riled up the most honestly. The disturbance may be in part due to the fact that he had been with the kingdom for so long that he merely expected the rest of society to understand the simple concept that if Necropolis or Lucifer had established a law, it would be followed for the rest of time. Apparently he was wrong to think that the rest of society actually had fucking brains. When the empire was in its beginning era, it had been explicitly stated that if anyone challenged for the land and won, either Necropolis or the current king would return and challenge for it. So why was this such a surprise to anyone that Diavolo was challenging Zephyr? The laws were perfectly clear and unless someone had an abrupt death wish, they would always be followed. Of course there were always the imbeciles that believed they could do as they pleased without consequence from the members of the empire. Did they believe that Carnevale earned its reputation by allowing them to do as they pleased without consequences? No. Out of all the potential times anyone could choose to commit a crime against the infernal and majestic empire, this had to be the absolutely worst time to do so. And again, Diavolo was not blind to the individuals who thought they were the toughest and most horrific creature to walk the earth. They would challenge every word he or Necropolis uttered and would struggle with the empire’s ties with the virulent individuals that lived and reigned in the Underworld. That was their choice to make their own lives difficult. The leviathan would not hesitate to deliver every hour of torture they racked up for their foolish utterances and insolent actions. In simple terms, he did not give a fuck about anyone else and if they crossed his path, death and torture were guaranteed to follow them for the rest of their life on earth.

The beast snorted as these thought processes churned inside his think box while sinew wrapped pillars struck at the earth in languid, extended strides. Ebony flesh was pulled taut over his muscular frame before his single ivory stocking that stretched up to the point of his hip abruptly interrupted the obsidian flow. Within the alabaster marking, scarred indentations of four numbers in a vertically aligned fashion caught the attention of any onlookers. He had lived with the brand upon his marble hip as well as within the cartilage tunnel of one of his harks that he had just accepted them as part of his appearance. Sometimes he forgot they were there but he could never forget the hiss of the hot brand iron against his flesh as searing pain erupted within his nervous system. Diavolo understood agony unlike most creatures that lived in Wild Equines. He had suffered at the hands of men for several years and he had witnessed horrors that those of his species could never fathom nor recreate. Although there were a few equines he would love to set ablaze and leave to sizzle and cook upon a massive hot grill for several hours until their bodies were nothing more than charred lifeless bags of flesh and bones… Zephyr would be a nice first choice for such a gloriously entertaining dining session as that. Hmm, now he was hungry. It was a pure shame he had not acquired the taste for horse flesh like his nephew had or the desire to drink the metallic crimson like his brother.

Diavolo loped toward the pitted terrain designated for publicized battles and skirmishes. He was honestly stoked for this little tussle with the mahogany brute. The ebony and alabaster hued hellion could not wait to feel the other stallion’s slabs of muscle beneath his dinner plate sized daggers as he dug and struck out at any vital limb. Even though he was not a vampire, the lust for feeling the warmth of his crimson life force trickling down over the emblazoned beast’s maw was almost dizzying. But those were not the only things he could do against the russet stag. Those were just two options he could choose later on if Zephyr arrived more prepared than expected. The branded and scarred hell hound picked his way down into the hollowed out landscape before sliding to an abrupt halt which sent dried earthen particles into the atmosphere before dissipating. Golden yellow optics surveyed the landscape as branded harks swiveled upon his crown in search of his opponent’s arrival. He could wait all day. His temper was growing even more unsettled with the passing minutes but that would be Zephyr’s problem to contend with when he chose to show up.

word count | 1,568
tags | shorty and zephyr.
muse | fantastic.
music | into the deep (full album) – oceans ate alaska
notes | none.
terms | three days to respond between posts, two hits and zero dodges, no word minimum/maximum, winner gets the dark main land slot.

[Deleted]

ZEPHYR

Show me how to lie, youre getting better all the time
And turning all against the one is an art thats hard to teach
Another clever word sets off an unsuspecting herd
And as you step back in the line a mob jumps to their feet

Name: Zephyr
Breed: Hispano Arab x Friesian
Age: Seven
Gender: Stallion
Height: 16.3 hands
Alliance: Dark
Health: 100%

Dull, vacant clops could be heard against the diverse terrain, as the sound mingled only momentarily upon the oxygen, vibrating itself once more into the thought of extinction before being replaced once more with its identical. The sound was easing, something to dull the erratic senses that seemed to scream with anticipation from the lone figure. Neurons felt as though they were being lit on fire, the burning sensation that tingled through the epidermal of the steed, adrenaline and testosterone filtered through his rock like cords, as he did not bother to hasten himself to the lands of challenge. He was not in the mood to flatter the ego of the mongrel whom had transversed upon his homeland like a stuck up three year old, stomping and bellowing in some form of a tantrum. It had almost been amusing to the russet beast, watching the way the primal built gargantuan had stormed into his homeland, waving a simple air of arrogance and simulated strength. It was almost like a show, watching the way the massive beast had seemed to think himself superior. Superior? Sure in mere body fat percentile, that was about all the mahogany behemoth would give him, he was not a fan of those that liked to try and flaunt around their arrogance, it was quite an ugly feature, and it seemed that those were whom he were coming across lately. However as he had begun to do his research about this Divaolo character, he had come to find him affiliated with those from the land he had taken from beneath them. He supposed it made sense then, considering the pure arrogance that Nile had flaunted around as well. Was it just some sort of characteristic these flea ridden mongrels liked to accumulate about themselves? His thoughts were intensely shaken, as the russet toned steed did not allow his cerebellum to entertain the thoughts about the possible inbreeding that had lead to such a diverse set of idiots before him. Raven toned orbs focused upon the trail before his daggers, as toned, vertical pillars shifted forward with ease, carrying his thick, yet elitely crafted frame towards the barren, parched domain, where once again he would defend the honor of his name and now the crown that he had collected.

The chill of winter had begun to place down upon the landscape, as the deep rotting scent of fall had consumed the lands that were marked as Wild Equines. It seemed that the thought of death and decay was all around, and as the terrain slowly slipped from yellow, brittle grass fallen with the inability to stand the frost upon the chill ladden mornings, to the cracked, brittle topsoil, shriveled from the lack of moisture. Rough, crescents were pressed down upon the terrain, turning the cracks into plumes of dust, disintegrating beneath the weight of the hessian, and leaving a distinct trail that exposed his direction from that point onwards. The multiple tones of the trodden soil was like a story book, however it was missing the characters, the plot line, the climax. A lot could be said about the bleached bones, the gnarled faces of the corpse thieves, their beady pools scanning upon the few equids that did happen to tread upon these lands, hoping that one or two of them should be a bloody battle to the death, to allow for their bellies to be full as well. The disrupted dirt showed the battles before, the process and struggles that had been consumed through that of another pair, another set of equines fighting for who knew what. The lands seemed to be permanently stained with the crimson life source that was spilled, the sharp metallic scent still hung duly upon the still oxygen. It was a stench that the beast was slowly becoming accustomed to, and he didn’t see it being something that would be going away anytime soon. Regardless of the outcome from this very battle, the sinking suspicion that rose within his barrel was that it would not soon be over. Cords of thick muscle pulled taunt, before relaxing in several different motions, quickly and rapidly following the simple instructions from deep within his think box, as he purposely allowed his frame to stretch, the satisfaction of joints popping. He paused momentarily, not bothering to worry about Diavolo, as he allowed himself the few moments to physically prepare, stretching each direction possible, as well as allowing himself the ability to fully prepared.

Satisfied with the outcome of his preparation, the behemoth stepped forwards once more, and with this allowed himself to lift his nasal passages into the atmosphere, smoothly taking in the scent of the lands. Death and decay seemed to flirt with his senses, flooding them till it was almost impossible to focus upon anything else. However the behemoth pushed the scents from his mind, as the putrid swine’s stench clung to his nasal passages. Ivory enamels ground downwards, letting themselves sink into one another in an audible click at the thought. Pistons altered their course, as the beast followed the trail, smoothly manipulating his frame forwards. He remembered coming to these lands in preparation to the fight with Nile, the ignorant little bitch whom had been in charge of his homeland at the time, when it was known as Carnevale Letale, he had not been this way, had not been in such a soured mood. He figured it was because they didn’t deserve the land, it had been upon their name for generations, and yet they had done nothing but hold the land. He had never even heard of the pathetic mongrels whom had lead it until he decided to challenge, and when he had won, they had come crawling right back for it. They didn’t deserve it if they didn’t plan to do anything with it. Granted he had done nothing so far, but considering the pressing matters he had to deal with, it had been different. He had only had it less than a month, there were still things he had to get together.

With these thoughts ripping through his dome piece like wild fire, his emotionless pools settled upon the primal features of the onyx beast, his over-sized facial features caused the pit to burn that much more, the intensity could be seen through the jagged movements of the mahogany beast, the way his cords coiled with feline precision, thick intensity created souls to peel like flints upon their sockets, masked within bruised hues from the mass of locks that covered his handsome features. Haunches flexed momentarily, as joints fused in place, cords becoming still as the commands from his cerebellum forced his frame to halt, his gaze boring into the face of the grotesque virile’s visage. Strings upon the russet cranial piece tightened, peeling back the charcoal labrums to reveal the stained calcium enamels, the smirk twisting a wickedly handsome seem upon his features, wrinkling his brow into an amused gesture, a fake persona, one that only he could know. He would not show the annoyance he felt with the onyx hued behemoth, as he was not about to allow that knowledge to be used against him. No, let the world think he was amused with the antics of this older baritone, let him believe he was indifferent, like he didn’t care. It was then that he could emotionally detach himself, allow himself to become clinical and focus upon this as a mission rather than something more. He did not bother to grace the idiocy of the steed with speech, nor did he bother to attack first. Let the waste of space start, he was oh so eager to be here, let him be the first, what was the saying, ladies first? Oh how fitting it seemed. With this thought entertaining his thoughts, the mahogany beast allowed himself to focus upon his opponent, letting his masculine frame become languid, loose and supple, though his nerves were completely upon edge, allowing himself to be prepared, as he waited for the beast to make his move.


STATUS: complete
WORD COUNT: 1347
MUSE: okay
MUSIC: random pandora
LYIRCS: You're gonna go far kid - the offspring
NOTES: none
RULES: 3 days. 2 hits no dodges. Winner gets the Last Dark Main Land.
ATTACKS: one. two.
DAMAGE: none currently

[Deleted]

D I A V O L O

i said i'd fight back, i didn't say that i'd fight fair !

Name- Diavolo
Breed- Shire x Friesian x Belgian x Vladimir Draft x Gelderlander x Tennessee Walking Horse x Schwarzwalder Fuchs x Irish Draught
Age- Six
Gender- Stallion
Height- 19hh
Alliance- Dark
Health- 100%
Mental Health- 100%

Many became perturbed with Carnevale Letale’s antics over the years however anyone’s amusement or disgruntled actions never spurred any of their tactics into motion. Carnevale Letale never did anything because someone asked them to do so or because someone was upset with them. The infernal empire did as it pleased regardless of any particular individual’s response or lack of response. Even if society suddenly spun and turned a blind eye to their actions while no longer offering any sort of rebuttal, they would still continue on with their plans as if it had not happened at all. Although things were going to quickly become very real. Regardless of the outcome of this battle, the majestically vile kingdom had future plans of tearing at the wounds it had left upon the Dark Royals in years past. Now they were going to rip them wide fucking open and leave them open to rot from the inside out. On top of that particular one ringed circus, the dark land had several things tucked in its sleeves to let the public contend with for a short time. It was guaranteed to be ugly and brutal but it would be completely worth it. Just as this battle against Zephyr was worth every second they spent within this barren pit.

Personally Diavolo craved victory here. There was plenty at stake with his personal agenda as well as the land itself. He needed to crush the twat under one of his dinner platter sized hooves. Otherwise the rest of society’s future was going to become very bleak if the infernal empire had to remain sandwiched among the other sub-lands in Pendle Island. It was reducing their prestigious outlook and Diavolo did not mind to turn the heat up on their plots and schemes to roll through Wild Equines like hell on wheels to amplify their image. But it was easier to hold onto a main land and let it speak for itself however Carnevale Letale never just ‘held’ the land. They used it, soaked it with blood and liquefying guts, imprisoned some famous faces of Wild Equines, gutted some of everyone’s worst enemies in the morgue, and at one time had the most members out of any harem in the dark alliance. They once had sixty-two members. Diavolo was certain that even Dark Woods could suck on that fun fact and weep for a while, let alone the arrogant snob he was going battle today. Zephyr had owned the last dark main land for a month and what had he done with it thus far? Someone could hear a pin drop with the silence involved in that response! Carnevale Letale had members within the first week. They had slaves within their second week. They had seven enemies within their first month of existence. Zephyr was not a big deal, by a long shot, in comparison to what Carnevale Letale had accomplished within their first month. Let alone three years. ”This ‘Garden of Secrets’ is more like a ‘Garden of Shit’ or the ‘Garden of Empty Lies and Tomfoolery’, HA! Zephyr can suck my dick.” Diavolo mused within his think box before a silver lining of a potential attack came to light within that thought process. Oh the hilarity that would ensue if he chose to do that!

The leviathan stretched his limbs as he waited for his opponent to arrive upon the dusty battle ground. Diavolo stretched his muscular nape up towards the skies and pointed his muzzle at the sun as his frame crouched low to the earth as his muscles became relaxed. He had some time he supposed. Zephyr was completely missing at the moment but the infernal king did not believe that the russet stag would miss such an event. Even though Diav was eager to get this battle started, he was waiting on Zephyr’s time clock now. The hellion righted his colossal frame and shook his gargantuan cranium which relocated his long ebony forelock between his branded auditory funnels. Across the barren and blood stained earthen crevice, the distant echoing of hoof beats rang out like shots on a firing range. Finally! Diavolo pivoted upon sinew strapped pillars to face his opponent head on without the intentions of holding any sort of conversation beforehand. There was absolutely no need for an exchange of syllables at this point. Nile had already spoken enough for Carnevale Letale and their roles were clear here simply by who was playing defense and who was holding up the offensive line.

They had already set the terms and guidelines for this short display of warfare before meeting here. It was simple and swift; two strikes without the option to escape harm’s way. It was going to fit into his tactical options quite well even if Zephyr tried to throw a curve ball at any point in the battle. Diavolo would never claim that he knew everything or that he could not ever be surprised but the chances of that happening were quite slim. He had personally witnessed equine bodies being contorted and forced into peculiar positions as they struggled to fight off their opponent. At that particular time their opponent had been mortal men and not another equine. But when an equine has their crown restrained as well as all four limbs, attacks can get quite interesting and quickly fatal. In this situation, his skull and limbs would not be restrained as they had been several years ago which freed up the list of attacks he could use. Overall there was no surefire way to guarantee that he would win. His height and size did little to enhance his chances of being the victor in this skirmish but he was not unsettled by that fact. His brother, Lucifer, had won plenty of battles without using such things against his opponents. Diavolo had heard all the mockery that Lucifer had received in battles: “The bigger you are, the harder you’ll fall”, “You’re going to fall like an old oak tree, old man”, and the predictable and oh so not offensive ‘fat ass’ comments. In all honesty if those were the absolute worst insults someone could conjure within their measly excuse for a brain they needed to shut the fuck up.

Once his opponent halted before Diavolo, it was on. Harks sprung forward and honed in on every single sound Zephyr created as the beast began to stalk back and forth upon heavily feathered pillars as he slowly inched closer to Zephyr. With each passing line he became about a foot closer to the russet bastard before his muscles contracted beneath his branded and scarred hide as he began to rock back on his haunches. His front pillars struck the ground repeatedly as he jumped back and forth in front of Zephyr as if he was trying to ‘herd’ his rival even though he was standing still. However his intent was not to ‘herd’ him, it was only a means to confuse him and hopefully make him jump the gun about retaliating. In his repeated movements, not once did he make any attempt to strike out yet. This was not an attack. If anything, it was merely foreplay. The nineteen hand giant continued to leap back and forth in front of Zephyr’s frame as if he was jumping in front of a cow to herd back to a different location before he suddenly reared just high enough to potentially meet his opponent’s top line. Hind pillars dug into the earth as his upper body twisted toward the russet mongrel and sharp, jagged fore daggers sliced through the air to hopefully slam down upon Zephyr’s pelvis with Diavolo’s dead weight behind it. Maybe his knives had even dug into the tender flesh of his hips as well but he wasn’t certain. He didn’t have time to survey any damage he had potentially done because as soon as his hooves touched solid earth again, he was already gearing up for Zephyr’s first assault by constantly moving his feet. He did not want to give his enemy any time to thoroughly plan anything if he hadn’t done so already.


word count | 1,355
tags | shorty and zephyr.
muse | fantastic.
music | the sound of madness album - shinedown, one x album - three days grace, etc.
notes | none.
terms | three days to respond between posts, two hits and zero dodges, no word minimum/maximum, winner gets the last dark main land slot.
attacks | 1. diavolo reared up high enough to be either right at the top or over top of Zephyr and struck at the top of Zephyr's pelvis with both front feet with his dead weight being behind it.

[Deleted]

So I've decided you can just have the land.
I don't have the time or muse for it.

[Deleted]

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