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The Lost Islands
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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.
the devil breathed,& there he was


Prologue

A day without sun is no day at all.

And time travel is useless without a way to measure it.

But physical touch cannot be concrete without tangibility...






The Cardia

Sturdy. Maintained. Dense. These were verbs that described his quad appendages. Fluent. Lithe. Liquid. His movement was none you could contend with. With this, his eloquent physique moved like a floating vessel above the sand dunes that clawed at his branches, threatening to swallow him like quick sand. The desert was a nomad’s refuge. And it was here he found his peace. The tranquility one suffers from the climate conditions of the region. One may not understand how the stallion’s core functions, but that was not something they should be concerning themselves with. If everyone thought, spoke, and acted as everyone else, where would the individuality of one come from? The world would be a dull and dry place, just as the desert seemed to be.

His coaled daggers cut through the floor, spewing the grains in a wave of chaos. Sinking with the central pull of the rotating planet. Ra seemed to be enjoying himself on this second day of another change in season. Autumn was a season that greatly interested the devil. It meant he could carry on his perfected lineage onward for another year or so. He would be choosy though. Just because he could force breed any mare, did not mean he should ruin years of bloodlines just for the pure pleasure of satisfying his urges. Though he would have, had pride not been overflowing out of him.

It wasn’t long before his vision landed on the large oasis. Nice, enticing aqua was at a stand still under the desert star. Sparse and gangly palm trees gave way to partial and temporary shade, a sanctuary of sorts from the day’s heat. But among these things, appeared a lovely, ebony ella. So intricate were her features. Delicately polished, only refined by years of careful breeding. Not many could appreciate and admire perfected breeding, but he could. Her top line was nearly flat, which alluded to very few offspring. Silky hide, slender limbs, orbs that burned with life. Yes, she was of the desert. There was no question or second thought, and he would have her. Not necessarily for the season, pre say, but at least be one of few selected for his herd.

With an agile transition of limbs, his inky frame neared the femora with ease and care. He could imagine seeing her bearing a colt of his. Even if he was an imp, it was no reason to persist in the matter of being one now. He did not want to demolish any potential possibility to breed to this rare black beauty. His soul seekers engaged in scouring her sleek bodice. Tiara held high, with her own gaze, grazing over him. Each other summing the other up, determining if either of them were of a threat to the other. But finding none, the stallion found no wrong in introducing himself. As far as he was concerned, these were his lands, and anyone stepping hoof on his land would know who he was.

"G’Morning, m’lady. I hope I have not troubled you so."

Pausing, he let his tune linger a bit before picking up where he had left off. Yes, he spoke with a regal and noble trait. Something he had found, and come to learn, was easy on the ears, and the ladies. Sure, he was the devil himself, hence his calling, but that was no reason to not sweet talk and promise lies that were all too tempting not to believe and wish were true.

"I am El Shetan. And I am giving you far warning, these are my lands now. So if you wish to leave, do so now. Otherwise, staying here, you are submitting yourself to my possession."

He implied with a nod of his visage to her. Lightly stomping his fore hoof, a lone fly had seemed to find its way to his flesh. Something the stallion did not tolerate all too well. His fixed stare was waiting on a reply. The quench of thirst suddenly had diminished.


the devil breathed, and there he was

Blood: Asil Arabian..|..Strain: Muniqi..|..Color: Homozygous K..|..Sex: xy
Age: Eight..|..Hands High: Fifteen & Three..|..Deserted Desert: King
bamboo


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