Nyymphi
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Joined: May 2008
Gender: Female 
Posts: 54
|  | .Myser ;; Climb to the Top
« Thread Started on Jun 4, 2008, 12:42am » | |
.Myser
A small round of thunder echoed down through the cave entrance. Clattering followed it, as though some stones had come loose and had dropped from a small height, ending up on a pathway. But, such work was created only by a cantering stallion, his inside compass directing him towards the cave entrance. Thinkbox calmly ran through the small-talk he would have to vocalise to either the Lead or Second Assassin. Briefly, it flickered to thoughts of how large the assassins' herds were, how many assassins worked under the Lead and the Second. Perhaps there were dozens, perhaps thousands, perhaps none at all. But such thoughts were not for him, he cared nothing, for he was not yet part of them.And oh, when he was, attention would be on him, for his jobs could only be called perfection.
Damn my colouring, why would my sire breed with such a mare as Jesyloe?
Ahh, but she was our pretty, our Jesyloe. She was our pretty, in the end.
All in all, Voice. She was a pretty little thing. And I do love the pretties...
WE love our pretties, Myser. We love our pretties very much, don't we, Sir?
Yes, very much indeed, Voice. Though she was my dam, her sin of giving me such a cursed colour was paid back, wasn't it, Voice?
Yes, yes, yes! We had our pleasure and our leisure, Sir. We had mostly our fun fun fun!!! Hahahah!
Yes, it was so much fun, to rape my own mother. How many would do that, pray tell?
At this, Voice fell silent. This conversation, betwen Sir and Voice, was a common thing, though, and for good reason, Voice never interrupted when Myser was on a mission or talking to another of importance. Thank the one who never looked out for him. God, or whoever it was these days. In turn, Sir went back to thinking about his own colour. Of the purest white imaginable in a pony, with a more yellowy tinge in his mane and tail, Myser had the embarrassment of inheriting hs grand-fathers' mind and his dams' colouring, with a touch of his sires' height and build. He was stocky, muscular, the tallest height allowed for him to be classified as a pony, and not a horse, and he was as fit as the worlds' olympic athletes. He was a fighter, a survivor, and he had but one blemish, got from his second fight. One minute, pink scar, bald around it as it had become infected. It ran like a snake, climbing up his off-fore leg, and ending at the base of his chest.
That stupid, rushed, inadequate and scared male had made his last mistake, and Myser had killed him on the spot. It was not, like usual, one of his jobs. It was merely a fight over a mare or something, who had ended up dying on Myser anyway. Stupid wench. But, still, there had been word that there was a pick of mares around Dustari, so Myser had come along, strutting the paths leading around, and managed to find himself here, at the very cave of the Assassins herd. What luck, to find that his job was not only used in his own lands, but other places too. Now, if only he could get in there, and call himself one of them. Jaw opened slowly, thinker putting the words into his mouth, so all he had to do was give them voice.
Leader of the Assassins! I call upon you! I call for a meeting, where we might discuss a matter, one which would highly benefit your colony!
The white brujen closed his maw, flints dancing a little to find a more comfortable position. Perhaps they called upon the Leader here a bit differently than from where he was from? If so, then he would ask around, see how exactly they recruited their followers. But, if not, then he would just have to wait and see. Hopefully, the Leader would find himself able to take on another, for Myser had a very defined ability at this sport, and he would make his own band, if this one would not allow him to join them. If, of course, the Leader showed at all.
[ooc note;; sorry, a little long -.-' ]
[word count;; 710words]
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