<font color=4f6367 face=times>who do you think you are%01 running 'round leaving scars?</font>

Your King Asmodeus
Your Queen ~~Nyimara~~
The Second None
The Herd Name, Name, Name		The Sub-Herd Name, Name, Name
Allies Name (Land)		Enemies Solomon (Cove)
The Rules There will be no fraternizing with enemies. If you put yourself knowingly in danger, don't expect a rescue. We are only as strong as our weakest link. See to it that you are getting stronger in some skill that is useful, whether it is battling, recruiting, charming, etc. The King and Queen have final say in all matters.

who do you think you are, running 'round leaving scars?
Posted on July 2, 2012 at 02:43:27 PM by e n c a n t a d o r

e n c a n t a d o r
"This is your daughter," she says, and steps aside. From behind her a tiny filly is revealed, but it is not what he expected. The girl is black as sin, with hollow, haunting eyes and twisted, mangled legs. Encantador watches in horror as maggots crawl out from her nostrils and entwine themselves in her mane. His stomach lurches. This isn't my daughter, he tells himself. This is an abomination.

"No," he finally manages, but Dany seems not to hear him. She steps closer with an implacable smile on her face, and the filly, stinking of death, follows her. Encantador isn't sure whether to destroy the creature or run far, far away. "She is yours," Dany repeats, and her voice is ethereal, echoing into the very air. Her eyes are dark coals, kindly yet frightening, and bore into his soul.

"NO!" he screams.

And he awakes, bathed in sweat.

It takes him a moment to remember where he is, and even longer to rid the horrible images of Daenerys and their mutant daughter from his mind. His spine is tingling and his throat is tight, as though he's been repressing sobs, and all of a sudden he wants nothing more than to flee this place, to leave his home behind with all its horrible heat, ugly, barren landscape, and painful memories.

He runs for the coast, his breath coming in sharp, haggard bursts and his eyes straining to see past the blinding sunlight.

The next few minutes are a blank. When he comes to again, he finds that he's wandered aimlessly and is standing a short distance away from a small gathering of equine, all dark blacks and browns in color. He's still bathed in sweat, and his mind is foggy, frighteningly so. What the hell just happened? He sucks in a breath and prays to a god he doesn't believe in that he's not going crazy, before nearing the group and hoping they sense nothing amiss.

He recognizes El Aran and Misty easily enough, but the third face is unknown. Too bleary and confused to take charge of the situation, Encantador stands placidly beside his lead mare, cocking one hind hoof and curiously watching the goings-on at hand.

six-year-old stallion of the desert;
son of el barroco and writhe

Replies:

DREAMS are wishes - By Samson and Misty July 2, 2012 at 06:28:21 PM
- The Gods contend in vain - By El Aran July 4, 2012 at 06:08:13 PM
  - DREAMS are wishes casted - By Misty and Samson July 8, 2012 at 11:32:25 PM
    - x - By Canta July 16, 2012 at 10:24:10 PM

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