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Post by Admin on Mar 20, 2016 22:14:29 GMT -5
Personality
The first thing to notice about Catalyst is his ability to notice distinctive traits about everyone else. He has a sharp eye and uses it well, able to pick up on body language and any information that may aid him. He's a manipulator by nature and always strives to play some kind of game with the girls he chases. His personality itself doesn't change all that much, with his easy going and relaxed nature. Instead, he'll play with his words and try different approaches for those he comes across. He may be a little two faced, but a more factual statement would perhaps say he has hundreds of faces. To some, he will act as a gentle hero and sooth their worries away while to others he'll act as the spark they need to fight. In the beginning it is all the same, however, he is known to carry much darker intentions. The stallion has no qualms about murder, though he has only ever killed mares over the age of maturity. It doesn't suit his taste to go after much younger brats, but it will cross his mind if they get in his way. That isn't to say he is a killing machine. Rather, he enjoys the art of killing and the beautiful sculptures he creates with a girl's most lovely pose of all: that of her death. It isn't all encounters nor all mares that end up bloody, he does have a preference to keep a group of stallions around for the comradely. In some cases, he can have quite the sense of humor. It's rare to find a situation so dire that he feels the need to be completely serious about it. To say he feels guilt or regret would be an almost complete lie, because those emotions are rare for him, though not completely inaccessible. Where there is a huge potential for a fatal encounter, the stallion does take pleasure in encountering new equine, sharing stories and exploring the land he's been released upon. An adventurer by blood, as he would call it.
History
Born to one of the higher ranking mares of a medium sized herd, life started out easy enough for Catalyst. The majority of the herd were some kind of draft mix, the lead stallion being of a massive build himself. The story was that they were only a few generations down from escaped farm animals, so maintaining the original separation in breeds turned into an art. The more distinguished you looked, the higher position was given. With his mother as a very lean Quarter Horse and his father as only half and half (Gypsy Vanner x Andalusian), Catalyst didn't inherit the clean cut looks, but was respected anyway. There weren't many hardships other than the weather and for the most part, he grew up in a generally positive light. He was a bit spoiled and a touch of arrogance came with it, but his mother beat manners into his head until he could be considered a gentleman. Due to his lineage and standing in the herd, once he came of age, he was offered a position to stay. The mixed breeds and lower colts were kicked out automatically, so it was an honor to be extended an offer. However, he turned it down. Adventure called to him and his young blood yearned to experience things outside of the "norms" of his herd. They'd come across travelers over time and all of them had funny stories to tell or amazing stories of the other lands or famous horses in them. The life of just staying around in his herd didn't seem so appealing when the rest of the world seemed so promising. So he left. He said goodbye to his mother, got an acknowledgement from his father and went on his way.
The first few weeks were more difficult than he expected. However, now that he had left his herd, there wasn't any returning to it honorably. He pressed on, eventually coming to learn where to go for the proper water and food sources. He discovered great landmarks to map his journey by and shelters that could be used in the event of a storm. Every so often he would come across another herd or a few travelers and he would swap stories with them. At the age of four, he came across a band of bachelor stallions. They were rough, boisterous and that overwhelming kind of intimidatingly friendly. There were five of them, all larger than he was, but they welcomed him with open arms. The intimidation wore off after a while and soon Catalyst found himself considering them his friends. The stallions taught him even more survival tricks and he would exchange information that he had collected. Although, there was one thing they told him about that he had not dabbled in. Mares. Specifically, the manipulation of their emotions to get what they wanted. (Which was more often than not, sex or more mares.) Never before had he actually considered being dishonest with what seemed to be the fairer sex, considering they were usually more dainty than he. The new subject opened up a brand new world for him, one that he was eager to learn. He had grown up getting a lot of what he wanted, so it was only natural to pick it up again after living on his own for so long. They began to teach him their methods.
It was no more than a year before Catalyst had become practiced in the art of glorified dishonesty. Every word he spoke was laced with a variety of poisons, ranging from sweet nothings to outright vulgarities and conquests that hadn't happened. Anything to make the girls admire him, though some required a bit more effort. There would be stubborn ones that needed a month or so of warming up before they'd allow his words to even enter their thoughts. That's all he needed though, just one little imprint in their normal, day to day thoughts. After that, all he had to do was keep them thinking about him in some kind of light that wasn't easily forgotten. Some mares liked a challenge, some liked a hero to come dashing in and some preferred a project to fix up. Catalyst soon found that these mares who wanted to 'take him under their wing' were his favorite to play with. There was just something that sparked to life when the mares would try to care for him and start throwing their efforts into "healing him" or "saving him". It made them appear that much more vulnerable to him, like a spindly legged fawn, just opening it's wide eyes to the world. He felt a primal urge far more powerful than any lust he had encountered before. He yearned to see those big, affectionate eyes with the cold film of a corpse over them. He began to wonder just what it'd be like to see the warm, lively mare he'd been with lately as still and cold. It was an alluring thought and became so compelling that he worked out a plan to throw it into action. This mare was already on his hook, in fact he had been planning on leaving soon now that he'd spent several nights with her. Usually a week or two after their first physical encounter was when he'd ditch her in the middle of the night. However, this time he stayed. He decided to try a new approach, to see just how far he could go with this particular mare. She had insisted that he wasn't all bad as he made himself out to be (that'd been his story this time, an outcast from his herd over some fight that he made himself the hero of). However, she lacked the self esteem to even talk to most stallions, so he had sweet talked her into a relationship in record time. The perlino mare absolutely adored him and always looked at him with this trusting, affectionate gaze. She was truly naive enough to believe the sugar he spat and she thrived on every compliment, promise and hushed affirmation.
He began feeding her more vague, uninterested answers when she'd ask him how he was feeling. Instead of the constant, positive reinforcement, he'd give negative or unsure answers in time of her self doubt. It didn't take very long to bring her back to her sniveling, anxious self that he had met her as. He worked situations where they'd encounter other horses into his favor, offering his protection from the hurtful words they "said" when her back was turned. Lies became his throne and the mare quickly fell to trust only him. He picked her apart, thriving on every nervous, frightened and blatantly doubtful answer that drove her self esteem lower and lower until she would crack. Which she did, far sooner than he had expected it. However, he comforted her with the warm words she longed for and made great promises of what would lay ahead of her, but she only had to do one thing. There was an eternal, peaceful rest awaiting her. He swore he would help her reach it, help her settle into this sanctuary that would save her from the harsh world that he had tried to keep her away from for so long. She bought every word, starving for any affirmation of her existence she could get, the idea of an eternal peace seemed brilliant to her. It meant maybe she had gone through so much and would finally be rewarded, that she had some benefit to her life. On the next night where the moon shone bright enough to see, he promised that he would be by her side when her final moment came. In fact, he was going to be generous enough to be the one to control it. He held true to his world and the mare anxiously awaited the next night, staying close by her savior's side. When it came, he lead her to the place they first met (it'd be more romantic this way, he had told her) and had her stand there. He gave a swift bite to her neck, where he latched on viciously to her throat until her body crumpled and her movements ceased. It only took one, solid look over the newly deceased mare for that little spark in his head to ignite into something that would never die out. It was so satisfying to look over his handiwork that he knew immediately he would have to do it again.
After only briefly washing up, he left his "lover's" corpse to the animals and went back to meet up with the band of stallions where they usually were. His friends were happy to see him and began to tease him, seeing as loud as they normally were. They laughed that this was the longest he had spent with a lady before, perhaps he was settling down? He joked and jostled them back, claiming she'd become too much of a stiff for him. Once they had settled back into the normal rhythm of things, his friends went on to say they'd sapped the land dry of all the women they were interested in. It was time to move on and Catalyst had no objections. The band continued journeying through forests, plains, over mountains and across rivers in search of whatever fun they could squeeze from their otherwise mundane lives. Survival had become second nature to all of them by now and it wasn't rare for any of the group to split off for a little while to chase some tail. Catalyst used this to his advantage, opting to take the shorter route so he would have more time to spend with whatever lucky lady he came across. Almost every time the rest of the band went the longer way or their own paths, leaving him to his own devices. In the beginning, he found it was easiest to lure the docile, delicate mares into the trap he had laid for his perlino first. All of them perished in their short time of knowing him. If not by his smooth tongue and efforts, if they caught onto the trap, he would slay them right then and there. It would be no help to his adventures if one loose tongue brought his good reputation crashing down. For this sake, there were some mares he would spare. He'd show them a good time, then release them back to whatever stallion he stole them off of. It kept suspicion low and he was always careful not to get caught, especially after each murder. Years passed and he continued on like this, picking and choosing which mares he would toy with and when the perfect time to end the charade would be. Precision was key in his fun, it was most likely dumb luck that got him so far. However, there had to be a day where his luck would run out.
It came on nonchalantly and the day began with him talking up some spunky, buckskin mare. She'd been hanging around the forest path lately and his friends had taken notice of her, however Catalyst had been first to act upon it. Once finally catching her for a conversation, he lured her further into the woods where he knew they'd have privacy. Instead, a bouncy young filly came running headfirst into his web, while he was still spinning it. He had dealt with siblings, friends, annoying neighbors and hell, he had even dealt with children before. This wasn't anything new to him and he decided to befriend the younger girl. She immediately decided that she didn't like him. She claimed there was something odd about him and tried to convince her sister to come back to the herd with her, which did alarm Catalyst. He figured this was a mare better left alive and perhaps proving to her little sister that he did nothing, his reputation would be left even better. It was a shame though, she had adorable markings scrawled across her body and scars that lured him in. This girl had a story to tell; he found himself sincerely interested for the first time. So he did listen, he heard her entire life story out and he was left unsatisfied. The mare had been through several masters, after being born into slavery. They'd beaten her down, yet every time the buckskin had forced herself back up. It was admirable and a beautiful show of power that held him intrigued. The same lust began to fill him as when his first lady had fallen. He couldn't help but to wonder: how would this mare's eyes look with a thousand yard stare? He had to find out. She was too much of a temptation for him to pass up. He could already taste the satisfaction he would feel by falling this mare and spilling her blood where others could not. There was no need for him to beat down a foal to establish that he was in control, no, he could do it with words alone. So he began to spin his web again, luring her in. The mare came much easier than he had anticipated; she seemed to be yearning for a friend. It reminded him of the perlino and drove the predator in him insane with hunger. He would have her before the night was over, this he was sure of.
With the mare falling quickly into his trap and her mind ensnared in a net of hormones due to a pending heat cycle, the plan was working smoothly. It seemed she was lonely and craved the touch that no stallion of her herd would place upon a scarred mare. No previous slave would bear their children, they claimed. It hurt the girl, striking her deeply and leaving her vulnerable. He thrived on this lack of confidence and began to work his magic, at least enough to get her to agree to follow him further away from her herd. There was no way to bring her to the same level his lovely perlino had reached, but he knew it'd be just as well to strike her down when she still trusted him. Her expression may not be of that blissful, manipulated trust when he delivered the blow, but the betrayal would look just as good. He fed her sweet words and oaths that he'd protect her from now on; the buckskin hung on every word. Eventually, it came time to end his game and take his well earned prize. He leaned in close, nipping gently at the mare's withers before trailing his maw along her neck and to her throat. He could feel her pulse hammering away and made the bite just as swiftly as ever. The mare didn't even have time to scream before he was latched on, however, she didn't have to. The very instance his teeth sunk into her soft flesh, the pest of a sister screamed for her. His eyes widened and he quickly attempted to make the finishing bite before pulling back and scanning the trees for the filly. The buckskin didn't crumple like she was supposed to, instead she stumbled forward as she wheezed. Unable to spot the sister in the trees, he turned his attention back to the dying mare. She wouldn't last and it pained him to leave such a delectable girl, but that little girl could have the entire herd on his ass before he knew it. He took off galloping through the trees, picking along a path he had already planned his escape on. It wasn't long before he heard angered shouts coming from the forest surrounding him and they were closing in. He broke free of the path he had chosen, slowing his pace some in an attempt not to trip himself up, but also to lose them in the denser brush. He dodged around trees and took leaps over the ever growing amount of dried brooks until his breath ran ragged and his legs were beginning to give out beneath him. Some of the herd stallions were still hot on his trail, built of far smaller and faster blood than he was. He knew it had to end soon, but he refused to be taken captive or beaten by them. It was then that he reached the remains of a waterfall, the water long gone from it's dusty bed. Tall, jagged looking stones stuck out from the dry pool below and he could see only a small amount of water still encircling them. There was no walkway down, no immediate side to start running along. Instead, he could only turn to face his hunters. Several stallions and mares came to a messy halt, clearly out of breath and as exhausted as he was. He noticed several of their legs shaking, but it only lead him to realize just how badly his own were wobbling. They felt like stilts he had been placed upon and it was then he knew there would be no more running. There was confused and angry shouting, words of hatred mixed with vulgarities and threats of mutilation. It all seemed empty to him, knowing there was still one way to avoid this herd's wrath. It'd be his final act, the one last imprint of a corpse he could leave behind. He decided, it was always right to save the best for last, so he turned away from the herd and forced himself to leap from the edge of the falls. His legs shook hard from the force of his jump, but he knew there'd be no reason to save his energy now. The descent was worth it. The oncoming rush of the ground along with the knowledge that he'd just taken away any source of revenge for that chestnut beauty had to be the most satisfying feeling he'd ever had. It meant that he won, even if it was torn away from him not seconds later with the impact he had on the dusty ground.
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