|
Post by Admin on Nov 18, 2017 21:40:25 GMT -5
Personality
Cold, cynical and disinterested are perhaps the easiest ways to describe him. When he once strived to be the smoothest talker around, he no longer cares for such petty things. However, that doesn't mean he forgot all the skills he learned. If placed in a situation, he could easily use his manipulative abilities to talk his way out. If he were in a good mood, of course. He's almost never in a good mood. There's hardly anything he gives a rat's ass about and that includes most conversations. The only thing he seems to care about at all is his bearded vulture who rides on the wolf pelt thrown across his shoulders. The bird is often the only thing that can make him laugh and he treasures it, though hardly shows what an impact it has on him. He has a very difficult time making connections with others and often avoids social situations since he hates the company. If he thinks someone is growing too close to him, he'll simply leave. He prefers having no commitments and isn't above leaving in the midst of someone else's personal breakdown if it means better grounds for him. While in his younger days he didn't have much of a temper, he now is prone to snapping on a regular basis and often anger is the only thing he can actually feel for long stretches of time.
History
Life started out swell, being born into a small nomadic herd with his father the leader and his mother one of four beautiful mares. There was no lack of love and he had two sisters to keep him company. They lived as peacefully as a small band could up until the time Abysm decided he wanted to do something a little more with his life. His father wasn't one to kick him out, but he wanted his own mares and left as soon as he was old enough to defend himself. It was a surprise when his sister insisted she tag along, but he could never refuse the sweet ebony filly. He and Zana left with a small plan, mostly devised by him. If they were to encounter mares already under the lead of another stallion, she was to charm said stallion while he swept the girls away. It seemed like a sound enough plan for two youngsters with no experience outside their own herd. A short while into their expedition, they put the plan to work. The duo came across a small herd with only two stallions watching over it. Zana immediately got to work playing with the brutes while Abysm attempted to play it calm and cool with the mares. They very quickly rejected him and refused to so much as speak to him. With the plan backfiring so terribly, him and his sister absconded. The cold reaction to what he thought was such a good plan left him on edge. The only thing he could think about was just how terribly it had gone and soon his mind was consumed by it for most of the day. His sister attempted to reassure him, swearing it was merely due to his age. He wasn't entirely convinced, but decided instead to dedicate much more time to the act.
Over the next two years, he became almost obsessive with figuring out the art of manipulation and fine tuning his own appeal. Daily sparring became something he insisted on and Zana obliged, finding it helpful to her own causes. He wouldn't rest until he was fit and all of his motions as smooth and practiced as a dance. Along with the physical changes, he began to take on a more intellectual approach to the herds. He would spend days or even weeks sizing them up and figuring out exactly who played what role. If a mare was left out just a hair more than the others, a massive target became draped over her back. It took quite a lot of effort, but he found it well worth it when it began to pay off. Herds he and Zana infiltrated soon began losing mares left and right to their charms. Abysm was pleased when he saw his sister also picking up on all the training; her "distraction" skills were without rival. She was even teaching the other loyal mares of his herd little tricks and how to help them convince mares to turn on their leaders. He became very focused on their ability to take these mares straight from their homes. The promise of even more potential with their skills seduced him and he shifted his thoughts from a bigger herd to seeking more control over others.
The change did not go unnoticed by his sister and he was incredibly disappointed when she announced her plans to leave their growing herd. He did not lash out at her, instead deciding to take another route. So he agreed that if she stayed for one more herd, he would let her leave without any bad feelings. She seemed relieved, so he kept the identity of the herd to himself. He thought it would be better if she found out after they had conquered it and she would be so impressed with herself and most importantly, with him.
They scouted this one last herd for some time before Abysm finally reached a plan. It seemed he was the only one of their group that knew this was considered a "royal" herd for the lands as the other mares and his sister were baffled by the sheer amount of stallions in it. He decided it would be best to send Zana and the mares in first and he would stay to the outside of the herd until they reported back. They got to work very quickly and it wasn't long before his outside boredom was cured by a report by his sister. She claimed one of the higher up stallions had fallen for her and asked for both a foal and for her to stay. This came as very exciting news to Abysm and he told her to keep up the work and to bear the foal if she so pleased. The other mares soon came back afterwards as well, all of them reporting they were making progress with several mares of the herd and it wouldn't be long before they would be ready.
Abysm continued to stray along the outsides of the herd, doing his best to avoid detection as the mares occasionally brought reports back to him. However, after about a month, he realized that some of the herd horses were drawing closer to his hiding places several days in a row. He didn't want to be caught at this point loitering around for so long and the next mare who came to him, he ordered her to inform them all to back out and bring anyone who they thought was ready with them the next night. However, his luck didn't hold out and early the following morning he was discovered. After a fight, several guards forced him into the center of the herdland where he was beaten until he could no longer stand. His mares were scattered about the gathered herd, watching, but all of them too frightened to do anything. He was made a slave before them and dragged into a small cave that served as his holding pen. Beatings became a common occurrence and it was only when he became so weak that he could merely hobble that the guards allowed him to interact with the lesser herd members. He was unable to contact his sister nor any of his other mares, but he caught a glimpse of them every so often. It became apparent that Zana was pregnant and had grown close to the stallion he had encouraged her to go after. However, she did absolutely nothing to aid him. It more painful to see her having a life outside of his suffering than the actual wounds themselves. He grew bitter towards her and lost most of the fake charm he had encased himself in, instead becoming ever more cynical and cold.
Days began to bleed together and lose their meaning with months passing before he even realized it. Only when he found out that his sister had run off did he actually begin paying attention again. It seemed that his mares were no longer loyal to him and even if they were, they were specifically kept separate in fear they might aid in his escape. Being placed as a slave had been a crushing blow to his ego, but yet he found himself not caring if he ever actually was able to leave. The beatings had grown less constant, to the point where he found himself surprised if teeth or hooves actually made contact with his hide. It seemed his disregard for the guard's standing and his utter lack of interest had taken away his own intrigue. They were getting sloppy with him and when he realized this, it was only a matter of weeks before he had used his sharp tongue and dry humor to gain favor. It was almost as if they couldn't even remember why he had been beaten down in the first place. Surely, he hadn't actually committed a crime other than having some of his mares talk to the herd mares a little enthusiastically about other places? He toyed with the seed of doubt as soon as it was planted and it flourished easily. Soon there was no more halfhearted snapping at him nor bans from talking to the rest of the herd. By all means, he was free inside the boundaries of the central herdland. However, he was tired. Freedom seemed like a good enough treat and he resigned to live among the herd as their resident disgruntled old man, despite being younger than most of them. He spent his time brooding and questioning how he had come to fall so low. Still, it was enough of an existence for him.
Time continued to pass and Abysm regained his health, finding a small amount of purpose in sparring with overly cocky colts. It wasn't much longer after his muscles had regained their former glory that the mares began to take notice of him again. Despite his multitude of ugly scars, partial blindness and permanent limp, he found growing popularity. The herd began to almost feel like a home. Almost. No matter how many 'friends' he began to make (mostly annoying youth who wouldn't take a hint), he couldn't find himself to grow completely attached to anyone. As soon as someone got close, he'd remember his sister and quickly find a reason to push them away. Nevertheless, he was content.
The world hardly seemed to care for Abysm's ambient bliss and took haste in unbalancing his world. A band of rouges moved in on the herd. They came in screaming the most hellish sounds Abysm had ever heard, but it worked on the panicked herd and scrambled most of the mares. The remaining stallions took up fighting in an attempt to ward the rouges off at least long enough for the others to escape. However, most of the herd was made of smaller built breeds and they were easily overpowered by the much larger intruders. In few hours, most of the herd had been lost in the onslaught. If they hadn't been slain, they had run or been captured. While the herd fought with all they had and shed blood, Abysm remained idle. He found himself unfazed as the rouges attempted to provoke him into battle. They seemed amused and jeered, though left him for more entertaining victims. He found himself unable to care about the bodies scattered before his hooves. Each blank gaze was another set of eyes that had witnessed his suffering and done nothing about it. The attack felt justified. He picked his way through the land, staring emptily at each corpse as he passed. Foals lay strewn open and he felt a mere spark of anger at the sight. It wasn't enough to draw him to the fighting, so he continued his exit.
As he approached the towering canyon walls that would allow him to take his leave, a striking sight made him pause. A draft of some mixed colors, spattered in blood towered over the fallen form of the King. A thick pelt was thrown over the draft's neck with the fallen wolf's head resting just atop his own. Though perhaps the most startling part was the enormous bird perched upon the pelt, finding hold in the fur. It must have been some huge raptor, its feathers stained crimson and its long beak working to free one of the bones knotted throughout the stallion's mane. The creature's head shot up as it noticed Abysm and its foreign call alarmed the draft of another presence. The draft swung his oversized head around, blood still dripping from his maw. He looked amused. He spat disturbed words, claiming the King's death with pleasure and he worked to provoke Abysm into a fight. It hardly had an effect on the worn stallion and he attempted to take his leave once again. It seemed the cold shoulder wasn't enough for the brute and he lunged at Abysm. With hardly any choice other than to defend himself, Abysm found himself dragged into an incredibly difficult battle. The draft was nearly double his size and weight with far more training, yet he was cocky and reckless. Abysm was petite for a stallion and agile beyond what was good for him. He quickly took this to his advantage, allowing the draft to tire himself and work himself into a frenzy attempting to land blows. Though the strategy held up and soon the draft found himself slipping on a streak of blood. The giant tumbled to the ground with a sickening crack. It took no genius to know a broken leg and Abysm didn't so much as humor himself by taking a look. He knew his attacker would never stand again and he found his attention drawn to the bird. The creature had taken flight during the battle and had landed again only to tug at the bones still entangled in the brute's mane. The sight was so absurd that it drew a hearty laugh from the bay stallion. He took the wolf pelt from the draft's neck and tossed it over his own shoulders. The vulture gave him an inquisitive stare, though seemed to follow some form of training and flew up silently to perch on the pelt. The protests of the dying stallion held no power as again Abysm turned to take his leave. He began to walk, deciding to travel as far from the now lost herd as his hooves would take him.
|
|