Post by Storeh on Jul 30, 2011 11:52:21 GMT -5
'Not understood, and neglected...'
From a young age, Stranger lost himself in the nightmares of the past, the horrors of what was. The extermination of life, the ashes of a war on his pelt, the memories that were not his, seeing the gas chambers in the falling snow, the broken bodies on the ground, in the ground, the ghosts peering over his shoulder. The pale horse haunting him, he saw it as a curse. Why would he see all these things if he was not to blame for them? Why would he be forced to relive these experiences if he could not do something about them? He refused to eat, thinking himself unworthy of the life, he refused to drink, thinking the water too pure for himself. He was tainted with the sorrows of the world, laying across his shoulders. There was no grace of an Elemental in his tattered and ragged pelt, no build of a king or lord in his frame. Just a broken equine who knows not his age.
On the breath of a cold winter morning, he trekked, half starved, thirsty, watching the snow fall like ash on his pelting. He met a mare, a Zuden with a scarred pelt from war, the horrors of her past so real to him. She was dying, and he could see the pale horse over him. Her name was Aithne, and she was the most beautiful equine he had ever seen, so tragically perfect with her scarred face. Love allowed him to beckon the pale horse, Death, away from her. That alone allowed her soul to return to the living, fractured by his tears that saved her. Yet she left once more. Or did he leave her? They spent a day grazing side by side, her voice beckoning him to eat though it was so painful. Telling him he was deserving, that he mattered. Purpose. But they were parted. He was left in bits, but wished to live onward...for Aithne.
In the smeared borders of Animus, in a land he thought of passing against, the Stranger met the Elemental Lord Vaiveahtoish, who was everything the stallion was not. Vaiveah saw in him the promise of his gift, the blood of the Chikoa, though he would never voice it aloud. At first he was taken to Animus as the aid for the rising threat of the Zuden, a subject that the Spirit Lord did not bear lightly. But, they formed a friendship, one that neither of them could say they shared with another. They were friends, though they were of two different kinds.
Stranger took to the wandering of the isle one day, as was his custom, the memories found in Animus just as bitter as anywhere else. It was said to be his home, but the wanderer in him grew restless with the spirits so near. He wandered into the forsaken lands of Cerchi Di Avversione, the lands of the damned, tasting the memories and wishing to leave as soon as he could. Then, he witnessed a brawl between two stallion, a fight filled with malice. He wished for the fighting to stop, the pain of the memories too great. Couldn't they see it was not worth to die over? He intervened, and the stallions turned on him. He was slain to the welcomed embrace of the pale horse.
But the way he was killed was wrong. He had been cheated out of life in pure spite and circumstance. Stranger wished to return, to get revenge, to seek out those who had killed him and return the favor. In the fires of hellfire, he was granted his wish, and rose from the ashes as a Dreadsteed, a Hellhorse, a demon in his own right. He was reborn a hellion brute in the land where he had been slain, transformed both body and mind, without a soul. His revenge fueled the flames of his spite, and he sought to seek his revenge out, fulfill his task that had been burdened with. To rest in peace, unlikely? However, as he trekked the barren land in the shadows embrace of the night, he met someone he had all but forgotten. Aithne had found him once more, having heard of his passing.
She carried with her the last piece of his soul.
On the isle borders, his father he had no notion of was brewing a plan,
His best friend was seeking revenge for his fallen.
But Stranger would be born again...[/font]
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