Post by mozart on Jun 15, 2010 9:17:03 GMT -6
These lands were the ideal place for the mighty mare Kastarte to start her personal assault upon the White Alliance. The powerfully built tank of an equine pushed her way across the desolate earth, her daggers piercing the long sun-dried mud, little explosions of dust and a deep hoof print the only evidence she had ever been there. Her keen, deep green eyes observed everything, scanning from the horizon to her own hooves regularly, sweeping everything about the place into her mind. She would one day know every little detail of this place, how to use everything to her tactical and physical advantage, but then again, almost everything was to her advantage already. She snorted in pleasure as she halted. It was arid and desolate, but she did not care. That meant only the meanest and most cruel equines, along with the hardiest, could live here. They would learn to survive on very little and still be the strongest around, and that thought made her black little heart flutter. A smirk spread across her sharp, angular features and her eyes shone with an unnaturally cruel glitter.
The sun was setting in these desert badlands she was soon to lay claim to and make her home, and it illuminated the terracotta soil, painting her lands a vivid blood red. Her short, spunky mane was thrown around on a sudden gust of wind and her relatively short tail lifted like a medieval banner against the crimson sky. The sun was dying, and soon all those within and even connected to the White Alliance would. She smirked at the thought and lifted her nares to the gust of wind, testing the air with closed optics. This was going to be way too easy, she decided without uttering a single word; they will bow before the Queen of Golgotha. Dark, steel grey clouds above her head began to rumble with the promise of thunder, and electricity rippled across the sky, ready to strike anything too tall or arrogant. Perhaps Kastarte was too arrogant for even the lightening to consider striking her, and she felt as though she could ride it without harm. She also felt about two times her already large size, power pulsing through her chest. These muscles would win her revenge. Her hooves would crush the enemy. Her ivory fangs would deliver the coup de grace to the throat of the Whites. In that moment, as thunder boomed and lightening cracked, Kastarte felt truly invincible.
She was a large, often disgruntled type, the kind any equine with half a brain would know to stay away from. She did not say a lot, but when she did there was always weight to her words. She was a physically imposing equine with plenty of presence, enough to evoke confidence in any followers she may amass. Intelligent and articulate, she was the perfect leader for those with the correct mind frame and those who did not object to harsh punishment or a demanding lifestyle. It also helped to attract strong stallions, for despite her bad attitude and imposing build, Kastarte was not an ugly mare. She had attractive, unusually bright eyes and a decidedly feminine face. Although her voice was husky and raspy, it was also completely female, just the kind that would possibly have been a heavy human smoker. As the long prophesized rain began to beat down around her, Kastarte pushed herself onto her hind legs and kicked out with those in front in raw display of pride and strength. This was the dawning of a new era.
The sun was setting in these desert badlands she was soon to lay claim to and make her home, and it illuminated the terracotta soil, painting her lands a vivid blood red. Her short, spunky mane was thrown around on a sudden gust of wind and her relatively short tail lifted like a medieval banner against the crimson sky. The sun was dying, and soon all those within and even connected to the White Alliance would. She smirked at the thought and lifted her nares to the gust of wind, testing the air with closed optics. This was going to be way too easy, she decided without uttering a single word; they will bow before the Queen of Golgotha. Dark, steel grey clouds above her head began to rumble with the promise of thunder, and electricity rippled across the sky, ready to strike anything too tall or arrogant. Perhaps Kastarte was too arrogant for even the lightening to consider striking her, and she felt as though she could ride it without harm. She also felt about two times her already large size, power pulsing through her chest. These muscles would win her revenge. Her hooves would crush the enemy. Her ivory fangs would deliver the coup de grace to the throat of the Whites. In that moment, as thunder boomed and lightening cracked, Kastarte felt truly invincible.
She was a large, often disgruntled type, the kind any equine with half a brain would know to stay away from. She did not say a lot, but when she did there was always weight to her words. She was a physically imposing equine with plenty of presence, enough to evoke confidence in any followers she may amass. Intelligent and articulate, she was the perfect leader for those with the correct mind frame and those who did not object to harsh punishment or a demanding lifestyle. It also helped to attract strong stallions, for despite her bad attitude and imposing build, Kastarte was not an ugly mare. She had attractive, unusually bright eyes and a decidedly feminine face. Although her voice was husky and raspy, it was also completely female, just the kind that would possibly have been a heavy human smoker. As the long prophesized rain began to beat down around her, Kastarte pushed herself onto her hind legs and kicked out with those in front in raw display of pride and strength. This was the dawning of a new era.