Post by Ƨhatan on Dec 22, 2007 23:15:28 GMT -5
Ƨacrificial Ʀesonance
We are
We are the shaken
We are the monsters
Underneath your bed
[/b]We are
We are the shaken
We are the monsters
Underneath your bed
Ɨ’m the Ɔall to Ƨacrifice: Sacrificial Resonance
Ɨ Ƒollow Μy Ƒather: Stallion
Μy Ƒather ɱade Μe: Dutch Warmblood
Μy Ƨoul Ɨs Ʈainted: Dark
Ɨ’ve Ɵffered Ɓlood Ƒor: 7 Years
Μy Ɣictims Ƨee Μe: That’s right, boys and girls, the Call to Sacrifice has come to town; don’t miss taking a glance at this gorgeous 17 hand stud, but don’t stay close for long, or you may find your blood on his hooves the next time he goes looking for a sacrifice. Don’t let his unmarred chocolate bay coat draw you in, no matter how well groomed he appears, and be weary of letting yourself be caught by his flowing ebony mane and tail, for if you stare at his banner for too long he may set his eyes on you. Ah, yes, his eyes; pools of chocolate the same as his coat; perhaps you’d expect them to be expressive eyes, but not for this little stud; no, these orbs are devoid of emotion. Don’t let yourself be caught in them, for they can be quite catching, indeed; instead, let’s take our eyes to his legs; no, my good friends, that’s not mud caked around his legs, it socks of ebony fading to the chocolate of his pelt. And his hooves? Daggers of what should be pale ivory are darkened with stains of blood; don’t let his good looks fool you: this stag’s a killer. The Call to Sacrifice has come, kiddies, and how will you answer the call?
Μy Ɣictims Ƒear Μe: Ah, yes, a personality; well, a personality can predict the future, you know; if you know a person well enough, you’ll know exactly what they’ll do. But how well does anyone know Sacrificial Resonance? After all, back at his old home, no one dared even look at him, for his presence meant a sacrifice was coming, and they didn’t want to be the one. And his parents? Well, his father thinks he’s a disgrace, and his mother won’t challenge him, so they don’t care to know him anymore. So how well does anyone know this little stud? Well, not very well, but let’s look at the facts, shall we? Born to a stallion that thinks he’s a god, one can understand that Res here’s got a bit of an ego, one that was boosted by ‘conquering’ so many foes that simply stood there while he killed them. He’s arrogant enough to believe that anyone and everyone can be beaten by him, and just enough to think that he won’t even have to try to kill them, either. He’s a killer through and through, about as cold-blooded as a horse can get without changing to a reptile; he’s been taught that killing is the only way to settle an offense, and he’s not afraid of settling offenses with blood. Morals are unknown to him; it’s do what you want, when you want, and how you want for him; he could care less about right and wrong.
And when he isn’t killing? Well, here’s where things get a bit fuzzy, but let’s see: he’s been known to taunt; he’s pretty condescending and holier-than-thou; after all, he still thinks his father some kind of god, and that counts for something, doesn’t it? He’s not known to have much of a temper; he’s never had a reason to, everyone always stepped down and bowed out when he came through. He’s a cold, calculating guy; he doesn’t rush into things, and he’s not the brash type; he takes his sweet time, considering all the options and going with the best choice, and he’s a real patient guy; he’ll wait as long as it takes to get what he wants, so long as he does get it in the end. He’s a determined little fellow, too; he doesn’t know the meaning of “give up”. Nor does he know the meaning of “going too far”; I mentioned he taunts, and he’s so used to being feared and respected that he won’t think twice about insulting anyone about anything; not because he’s brash, but because he doesn’t think there’ll be a problem. In fact, he thrives on hitting someone’s most sensitive nerve; he’ll find the one thing that will bother someone the most and then grind it in, and he’s become quite adept at this; after all, how else did you think he spiced up his job back in his old herd? Even killing can get old after a while.
Μy Ɣictims Ƙnow Μe: What’s in a name? What can you tell of a person from their name? In so many cases, a name will tell you nothing, but that is not the case for Sacrificial Resonance, the Call to Sacrifice. This killer hails from Divinus, the divine herd lands, a paradise ruled over by Deity, a supreme ruler, a so-called God. Divinus members believed in his power or paid the price of blood. Born to Deity and his lead mare, Caelestis, Sacrificial Resonance was the heir to this wonderful little herd.
Of course, his name was not always Sacrificial Resonance; he actually remained unnamed for the first year or so, before his father found a use for him: Deity believed himself a God, and saw no reason to have an heir, but no one told Res that. But you see, Res earned his name when he proved his worth to his father and found his use: any offenses against Deity were paid for by a blood price, a sacrifice, and when the time came that a respected member of the herd was to be sacrificed, and not a single other stallion would man up and do it, Res stepped forward. He performed the execution against the defenseless stallion so beautifully, Deity decreed that no other would carry out the sacrifices but his son.
And so he became Sacrificial Resonance, the Call to Sacrifice: his presence among the common members of the herd meant a death soon to come, and meeting his emotionless gaze meant you were a possibility; after all, Deity was not a picky leader; so long as he was brought blood for an offence, he did not care whose it was. Only in capital offenses did he wish a particular victim be sacrificed, and those were rare occasions. The herd, with good reason, came to fear him, but his parents, his father in particular, became quite proud of him; after all, he served the herd in the best way possible, for, according to Deity, there was no more honorable a job than performing the needed sacrifices.
And Res was content for quite the time; he enjoyed the blood upon his hooves, the exhilaration of killing, and he never saw anything wrong with the slaughter of defenseless victims which he carried out in the sacrifices; after all, with a father like Deity, morals weren’t at the top of his priority list. But by and by, Res learned that there was no further chance for advancement within the herd; after all, he believed, as the others did, that Deity would not die; that meant that, heir or not, he would never become a lead stallion. And so, he left.
You see, Sacrificial Resonance was fine with killing and all; he enjoyed his job, sure enough, but he wanted more. And if he couldn’t ever advance any further at home, then that was no longer his home. So he just up and left. And Deity? Well, he let him go; sure, he was disappointed, but his son was a disgrace now, no use bringing him back. As for the sacrifice for the disgrace, he carried that one out himself, taking the first herd member that looked at him the wrong way and considering the matter closed. The blood price paid, Res was free.
So now he comes to this struggling little land recovering from disease. And what does he do? He decides to stake his claim and set up shop; there are plenty of lands here and one is going to be his. And once it is? Well, that is yet to be written. You’ll just have to wait and see what our little Call does now.
Ɨ Ƒollow Μy Ƒather: Stallion
Μy Ƒather ɱade Μe: Dutch Warmblood
Μy Ƨoul Ɨs Ʈainted: Dark
Ɨ’ve Ɵffered Ɓlood Ƒor: 7 Years
Μy Ɣictims Ƨee Μe: That’s right, boys and girls, the Call to Sacrifice has come to town; don’t miss taking a glance at this gorgeous 17 hand stud, but don’t stay close for long, or you may find your blood on his hooves the next time he goes looking for a sacrifice. Don’t let his unmarred chocolate bay coat draw you in, no matter how well groomed he appears, and be weary of letting yourself be caught by his flowing ebony mane and tail, for if you stare at his banner for too long he may set his eyes on you. Ah, yes, his eyes; pools of chocolate the same as his coat; perhaps you’d expect them to be expressive eyes, but not for this little stud; no, these orbs are devoid of emotion. Don’t let yourself be caught in them, for they can be quite catching, indeed; instead, let’s take our eyes to his legs; no, my good friends, that’s not mud caked around his legs, it socks of ebony fading to the chocolate of his pelt. And his hooves? Daggers of what should be pale ivory are darkened with stains of blood; don’t let his good looks fool you: this stag’s a killer. The Call to Sacrifice has come, kiddies, and how will you answer the call?
Μy Ɣictims Ƒear Μe: Ah, yes, a personality; well, a personality can predict the future, you know; if you know a person well enough, you’ll know exactly what they’ll do. But how well does anyone know Sacrificial Resonance? After all, back at his old home, no one dared even look at him, for his presence meant a sacrifice was coming, and they didn’t want to be the one. And his parents? Well, his father thinks he’s a disgrace, and his mother won’t challenge him, so they don’t care to know him anymore. So how well does anyone know this little stud? Well, not very well, but let’s look at the facts, shall we? Born to a stallion that thinks he’s a god, one can understand that Res here’s got a bit of an ego, one that was boosted by ‘conquering’ so many foes that simply stood there while he killed them. He’s arrogant enough to believe that anyone and everyone can be beaten by him, and just enough to think that he won’t even have to try to kill them, either. He’s a killer through and through, about as cold-blooded as a horse can get without changing to a reptile; he’s been taught that killing is the only way to settle an offense, and he’s not afraid of settling offenses with blood. Morals are unknown to him; it’s do what you want, when you want, and how you want for him; he could care less about right and wrong.
And when he isn’t killing? Well, here’s where things get a bit fuzzy, but let’s see: he’s been known to taunt; he’s pretty condescending and holier-than-thou; after all, he still thinks his father some kind of god, and that counts for something, doesn’t it? He’s not known to have much of a temper; he’s never had a reason to, everyone always stepped down and bowed out when he came through. He’s a cold, calculating guy; he doesn’t rush into things, and he’s not the brash type; he takes his sweet time, considering all the options and going with the best choice, and he’s a real patient guy; he’ll wait as long as it takes to get what he wants, so long as he does get it in the end. He’s a determined little fellow, too; he doesn’t know the meaning of “give up”. Nor does he know the meaning of “going too far”; I mentioned he taunts, and he’s so used to being feared and respected that he won’t think twice about insulting anyone about anything; not because he’s brash, but because he doesn’t think there’ll be a problem. In fact, he thrives on hitting someone’s most sensitive nerve; he’ll find the one thing that will bother someone the most and then grind it in, and he’s become quite adept at this; after all, how else did you think he spiced up his job back in his old herd? Even killing can get old after a while.
Μy Ɣictims Ƙnow Μe: What’s in a name? What can you tell of a person from their name? In so many cases, a name will tell you nothing, but that is not the case for Sacrificial Resonance, the Call to Sacrifice. This killer hails from Divinus, the divine herd lands, a paradise ruled over by Deity, a supreme ruler, a so-called God. Divinus members believed in his power or paid the price of blood. Born to Deity and his lead mare, Caelestis, Sacrificial Resonance was the heir to this wonderful little herd.
Of course, his name was not always Sacrificial Resonance; he actually remained unnamed for the first year or so, before his father found a use for him: Deity believed himself a God, and saw no reason to have an heir, but no one told Res that. But you see, Res earned his name when he proved his worth to his father and found his use: any offenses against Deity were paid for by a blood price, a sacrifice, and when the time came that a respected member of the herd was to be sacrificed, and not a single other stallion would man up and do it, Res stepped forward. He performed the execution against the defenseless stallion so beautifully, Deity decreed that no other would carry out the sacrifices but his son.
And so he became Sacrificial Resonance, the Call to Sacrifice: his presence among the common members of the herd meant a death soon to come, and meeting his emotionless gaze meant you were a possibility; after all, Deity was not a picky leader; so long as he was brought blood for an offence, he did not care whose it was. Only in capital offenses did he wish a particular victim be sacrificed, and those were rare occasions. The herd, with good reason, came to fear him, but his parents, his father in particular, became quite proud of him; after all, he served the herd in the best way possible, for, according to Deity, there was no more honorable a job than performing the needed sacrifices.
And Res was content for quite the time; he enjoyed the blood upon his hooves, the exhilaration of killing, and he never saw anything wrong with the slaughter of defenseless victims which he carried out in the sacrifices; after all, with a father like Deity, morals weren’t at the top of his priority list. But by and by, Res learned that there was no further chance for advancement within the herd; after all, he believed, as the others did, that Deity would not die; that meant that, heir or not, he would never become a lead stallion. And so, he left.
You see, Sacrificial Resonance was fine with killing and all; he enjoyed his job, sure enough, but he wanted more. And if he couldn’t ever advance any further at home, then that was no longer his home. So he just up and left. And Deity? Well, he let him go; sure, he was disappointed, but his son was a disgrace now, no use bringing him back. As for the sacrifice for the disgrace, he carried that one out himself, taking the first herd member that looked at him the wrong way and considering the matter closed. The blood price paid, Res was free.
So now he comes to this struggling little land recovering from disease. And what does he do? He decides to stake his claim and set up shop; there are plenty of lands here and one is going to be his. And once it is? Well, that is yet to be written. You’ll just have to wait and see what our little Call does now.
Ɔall Ʈo Ƨacrifice
We are
We are mistaken
We are the voices
Inside your head
Lyrics © Matchbook Romance
Character and Post © Shatan[/size]
