The Geneticist
Friendly reminder that even if it takes ages to reply, I still wanna rp with you.
Last Online: Nov 14, 2023 20:02:01 GMT -6
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Post by Δ Beauty With The Booty on May 18, 2014 1:07:37 GMT -6
WITCHCRYPT && DiETRICH The bitch moved quickly across the slopes and hills that was the Forest of Whispers. Her long mane now grazed her pitch colored fetlocks, her tag trailing the earth behind her. Her brindled pelt glimmered with sweat, showing off the ragged scars on her rump clearly. She was not ashamed of them, though they were not accompanied by fond memories. The hessian refused to dwell on the miserable memories. She had better things to do that wallow in her guilt and self-hatred. She was a busy Queen bee now that her sire had stepped down and given her the lead of his lands, above all of her older siblings. 'Why of course, you are his favorite.' A voice whispered in her skull, prunning her feathers gently, her pitch kissers curling into a pleased smile. Witchcrypt tossed her mane, the long forelock falling out of her eyes as she halted to look about the forest. She had wandered far from the cold desolation that was Cocytus. Far from her Queendom, to a land that not many tread. She flicked her long tail against her flanks and snorted, looking over her shoulder momentarily into the darkness of the treeline. She had come far from her lands because she was looking for a certain stallion.
She let her vocals call out, over her shoulder, calling to the little creatures behind her. Quiet as a winter breeze, three figures revealed themselves. The first and largest was a beautiful chestnut with faint brindles and pangre upon her lower bodice. Her blue eyes stared out at the grey missus, her dam. This one was known as The Bride, aptly named by the hessian of black and grey. Closely behind her was the companion her dam hoped would eat her and be done with the chestnut missus, but they had formed a fast friendship. The fossa looked up with is molten gold eyes, directly at the red eyed hessian and there was an understanding between the two. The second was a beauty to behold, the brindled hessian's youngest and her beauty rivaled that of her sister, The Bride. She was a beautiful blue roan tobiano with smoky cream chimera and raven like feathers all throughout her mane and tail and along her throat latch and areas along her neck and chest. Her mane connected to her lion-like tail that had scissor like pincers on the end, her sea-green eyes staring out at her mother with a knowing that crept up the black and grey mare's spine. A solid black raven flew from the tree tops, resting on the rump of the tobiano filly, her little companion that she had weaseled into her life, but Wicca could not blame her, she herself had a companion who was, at this time, curled up in her mane, Zazu, her little sugar glider. She snorted at her two daughters, who had decided to follow her, even though they would be save in the confines of Cocytus.
With on last glance at her little party, she marched forward, following the scent of the stallion, she had picked it up some miles away and was feverishly following it. For some unknown reason, she was very possessive of the palomino appy, unlike she had ever been. Something about him drew her to his side and wanted to hide him away from the prying eyes of this tainted world. He was hers and hers alone, scars and all. She picked up her long legs with a renewed fever, turning in a bend and coming face first with one of the most vile of creatures in RLTW. Dietrich. She reeled back, her rump colliding with The Bride, pushing the chestnut filly back, her other daughter halting feet away. The blue and golden orbs of the bastard turned on them, a foal of his own at his heels. Vermilion orbs glared at the grullo brute, every bit of his face covered in scar tissue and a knowing smirk. " Ahhh, so the Ice Bitch has finally come asking for it. I knew you couldn't resist, sweetcheeks!" He grinned at her suggestively, the silver grullo colt at his side looking fiercely at the two fillies. Witchcrypt made to retort just as a mare came into view, clearly a daughter of his, by the look of her blue and gold eyes. " Watch your tongue, filth, I have no quarrel with you on this day. Take your children and be gone from my sights." She hissed from between her carnivorous dentals, blood hued oculars glowing in the twilight. He grinned widely, the grin heavily grotesque from his monopoly of scars that littered his face. Witchcrypt had to admit, he was devilishly handsome in a way, hard to believe he produced beautiful children.
The bastard moved forward, eyes hungrily gazing over the mare. It was no secret she was beautiful. He had wanted her since he first laid eyes on her. ' We do not have time for her, she doesn't want to even touch you with her eyes, keep moving we have to meet this Meta before we loose his scent!' The rational voice pricked at his mind, bidding him to go forward, but Dietrich didn't move an inch, happily scanning her bodice with his eyes. That is, until he found the bodices of her beautiful daughters. He suddenly purred, a highly aroused sound, almost sexual in its tone, the brindled bitch instantly went on the defensive. "Ah, so the apple doesn't fall far from the tree." He said, gesturing to the beauty that was her only chestnut toned child. " And what is your name?" He grinned, his son and daughter watching their nutty father do what he did best. TB's bright blue eyes glared at him, clearly mirroring her mother's actions. "Why are you speaking to me? Did I address you? No? Thought so." She answered her own questions for him and instantly gave him a bored expression, Cain, her fossa moving protectively before her. He laughed outright, moving seductively closer to Wicca, her breath upon her sensitive aud. "Like mother, like daughter." He danced away as she snapped at him, surprisingly so for his bulk and mass. He licked his scarred lips, not even bothering with the other filly.
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Major General Dick Biscuit
Full Member
Hell is Empty. All the Devils are Here.
Last Online: Apr 11, 2020 18:25:43 GMT -6
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Post by General SigmaButt σ on May 18, 2014 4:36:22 GMT -6
w e a r e THE Μ Ξ Τ Λ & H A R K N E S S'Hey, dumbass, you're being tracked.' The dry tone of Beta rang in his head. He had figured he was being followed, as those following him made no motion to hide their actions. He was just close enough to faintly hear the occasional snap of a twig and rustling of foliage. He would have brushed it off as the local wildlife, but the sounds always seemed to be just behind him. He had no idea who was trailing him or why, but he intended to find out. Meta didn't like being followed by any means. It set his nerves on edge and the voices would pick up in intensity. They were chattering nervously in his mind, fighting one another to take control of his body and deal with the issue as they seen fit. The only reason he wasn't being forced around to a confrontation was Beta. She was keeping the others at bay and observing the situation with a clinical eye, just as she had done when she was alive.
Vivid crimson and gold oculars scanned the terrain carefully, looking for enemies. It would be quite easy to form a flanking formation around an enemy in these lands. It's spacious with decent cover. The only downside is the tawny bed of dead needles layering the hearth. They cracked under the weight of ones hooves and were made even more brittle by the biting cold of winter. So far, no signs of an ambush were present. Still, he remained vigilant. 'I got your six, try and stay inconspicuous. If this is a trap, we don't want to give our only advantage away.' He gave a mental confirmation that he was on board with the plan.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt a sharp stab of pain. It was the deep pain of a lost friend. Delta, though quiet in his current musings, was listening. He was drawn back to memories of an old friend; one of Meta's old partners in their division. He was the one Meta killed to gain Delta, and Delta remembered it perfectly. It made The Meta want to shudder. He had been a good friend, kind and quite funny, but he had to die. He had to. It was for the Alpha. They may have been close, but in the end, only the Alpha matters. At the thought, the voices began to clamor. Pressure began building in his head. The fragments grew louder and rapacious in nature. They took on a feral tone. It was horrifying to hear. To feel.
It hurt so bad.
Meta's body had grown rigid. Tremors rippled down his spine and his skull jerked skyward. His eyes were screwed shut tight as the pressure built. Then, a sound broke through the uproar. It was a call, not to him, but the voice was familiar. It was just enough to break through the frenzy and catch his attention. While he couldn't control the voices, or even his own body at the moment, he was able to try and drag some sense back to the fragments. The only one who wasn't completely lost in the chaos was, unsurprisingly, Beta. She never did lose control like the others. Instead of giving off waves of complete idolization and obsession at the mere mention of Alpha, she sent off waves of sadness, affection, and, oddly enough, irritation. He still never found out why.
She watched the frenzy with disgust and some mild amusement. Finally, she put a stop to it, drowning out the rest under her power. The manic voices screeching for the Alpha died out and the pressure was alleviated, for the most part. Her presence left him feeling cold inside. She sneered at the fragments, Sigma, Omega, and Gamma in particular. As she let loose a tirade of insults that could make a sailor blush, Meta found himself turning and heading toward the origin of the voice.
He knew the owner of feminine call, alright. Witchcrypt, or Wicca. Meta had met her once before. Why she was trailing him now, and he was certain it was her, he didn't know. The walk back didn't take long, and by now Beta's colorful chiding ended. He was left, once again, with the low murmurings of the agitated fragments. The cocktail of emotions he was drawing in from them didn't sit well with him, but he knew there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Soon, molten eyes fell upon a small gathering. He counted six beings in total; four of which were younger and then two adults. Out of the six, he only knew Wicca, though he was pretty sure the two females standing behind her were her daughters. The two fillies appeared to have inherited their mother's beauty. They seemed irritated with the leering, scarred male. The other two younger ones, a male and a female, seemed to be his offspring. If he could, he'd raise a brow. 'What is this? Bring your kids to the forest day?' Though it was said with a scathing tenor, Meta noted a soft undertone to her voice and he was reminded that Beta had a daughter when she was alive. 'Yeah, I did, and you killed her too, asshole. What about it?' At that, he would have felt ashamed, if he were capable of that emotion.
Theta was almost bursting at the prospect of foals to play with, and Meta could feel Delta's pity for the fragment, knowing he wouldn't be able to do such a thing. In contrast, Omega was snarling so ferociously, Meta could feel it rattling his bones. 'Kill them. Mutilate them. Don't let them leave here. DON"T LET THEM WALK AWAY. Kill them, Meta. DO IT!' Omega's blood lust was so strong, Meta almost salivated at the thought of ripping into their flesh. He felt the fragment's desire as if it were his own. If it weren't for Beta keeping him under lock down, Omega would have no issue taking control of Meta and forcing him to attack. It would be foolish, six on one, but odds didn't matter to the Rage fragment. Only carnage did.
Meta kept his composure. His facade was as stoic as ever. Fiery opts scanned each of the beings meticulously. He recognized Wicca quite easily. The rest were unknown to him. He had caught the tail end of the exchange between the older brute and one of the fillies, but he made no motion to interject. After all, what did it matter to him? None of them were his issue. He scanned Wicca, then a small smirk lifted his lips and trace amounts of amusement laced his deep, almost indistinguishable vocals. "You didn't slip in any more messes. Good job."
Then, all amusement drained from his expression and voice as he looked at the vixen and her daughters. His stare was heavy and penetrating. "Stop following me." His rough voice was more a growl than anything. It was clear he didn't like being tailed, even if by someone attractive. Physical appearances held little weight to The Meta, which was made obvious by his ragged and short mane and tail. He never did like having much hair. That's why he was baffled by how Witchcrypt could stand so much hair. It always irritated him. Though he seemed to pay no mind to the brujo and his young, he kept careful attention on them. It would be foolish of him to assume himself safe just because he was in the company of someone he knew.
Harkness did not intend on joining the growing gathering of equine. As soon as they were in range of his radars, he attempted to set a course around them. However, when he input alternative routes to his navigation system, the time estimate to his destination was less than pleasing. Quite simply, it would be counter-productive to go out of his way rather than skirt along the wayside and attempt to avoid initiating conversation. Bright azure eyes mapped the path silently before walking onward.
The low hum of his integrated artificial intelligence program alerted him to the fact that it was compiling information on the equine gathered ahead of him and storing it in his memory data banks. It was a rapid procedure, done as quickly as it began. Taking into account the gesticulations and heavy scarring on most of the gathered, there is a fifty-eight percent chance of the meeting devolving into a physical confrontation. Avoid if necessary. You are heavily outnumbered. Odds of success are seven percent. That is taking into account the odds of the adult female and her offspring focusing on the adult male and his offspring. The last male is an variable in the equation. He appears to have no ties to those convened.
Harkness frowned mildly at his odds. He knew, even without the calculation, that he wouldn't fare well if things turned south at his passing by. If he were completely unshackled and able to access all his combat protocols and routines, he would have little issue in battle, but he has yet to figure out how to rewrite the codes binding him to average strength, speed, reflexes, and senses. He had no interest in who they were or what they were doing here. All he cared about was reaching his destination. The marker directing him to his location blinked dimly in his vision. Flashes of his vitals and external readings scrolled across his sight. Temperature: -2.7 °C. Time: 18:24:45. He felt the chill of winter bite his hide as a cold breeze rolled through the forest. The sky was an unforgiving shade of gray. Dominate color: #272c33 with varying similar shades. Overcast. He shook off the reading, not having meant to take note of the color of the clouds.
By now, he was just on the edges of the group. His steps were heavy as he was physically incapable of sneaking. Electric cerulean opts glanced over the figures quickly, filing away their appearances before an anomaly cropped up. He already had information on two of the beings, and he already knew just who they were. The large scarred male and his spawn. Harkness had run into the two before. The memory was brought up and a small reply played in the corner of his vision. The exchange was quick, but volatile. His eyes narrowed minutely as the file was stored once more in his memory banks. It seemed the male was causing trouble once again. Taking into account the past interactions with the males, the chance of a physical confrontation rose by a margin of ten point eight percent. Nonessential exterior temperature gauge subroutine diverted to sensory perception. Proceed with caution.
Harkness knew he wasn't invited to interact with the group, but that fact didn't stop him. It wasn't as if he was far away from the group to begin with. He caught sight of several unnatural deformities pocking some of the equine. Luckily, he refrained from blurting out 'That's against protocol.' Still, the sight of such malformations made his systems feel like they were going to overload just by examining them.
Harkness' expression was just as serious as ever. His attention landed on the brute that confronted him before. "Just my luck. You." Though his voice held no inflection of emotion, he still managed to twist the monotone into an insulting tenor. He noted the irritation of the opposing females before continuing. "Still pissing people off, I see." It was stated as a fact, plain and simple, no room for argument. He stared at the male intensely, a challenge gleaming in his eyes, almost as if saying 'Give me a reason. Just one reason.'
Finally, he turned to address the others while maintaining a heavy awareness on the dark czar. "Sorry for interrupting.' From the flat tenor of his voice and impenetrable poker face, it was impossible to tell whether he was serious or not. 'Just passing through." Brilliant azure oculars snapped back to the brute and narrowed minutely. That simple motion alone displayed his intense distaste for the male. He knew it was customary to give his name and properly introduce himself upon meeting others. It even said so in several informative nodes in his banks, but he was just mortal enough to not care for such pleasantries. It's not like he intended to stick around and gossip with the group anyway.
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The Geneticist
Friendly reminder that even if it takes ages to reply, I still wanna rp with you.
Last Online: Nov 14, 2023 20:02:01 GMT -6
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Post by Δ Beauty With The Booty on May 18, 2014 16:03:30 GMT -6
WITCHCRYPT && DiETRICH To say Witchcrypt was impressed with her chestnut daughter, was an understatement of the year. Her crimson oculars gave the filly a knowing glance and earned one in return from her icy blue eyes. Wicca turned back at Dietrich's harsh vocals, they were not as deep and growly as The Meta's but they were more airy, raspy, as if he were choking on a blade and she silently wished he truly would. She snorted at his words, flicking her long tail in clear annoyance, keeping her rump away from the greedy bronc. It was a good thing that her daughters were in capable of breeding at this age, or else she'd have to fight the big brute off for all three of them. 'You know you want to rip him one.' The little voice in her head said and she grinned sadistically at the thought. Her stomach rolled and growled at the thought of tearing the great beast limb from limb. He seemed to mirror her thoughts, with her being the victim, as she went into an intense staring match with him. His bi-colored orbs gave her displeasing chills. " As I stated before, you mongrel, get out of my sight, I have pressing matters to attend to." She hissed, her little companion peeking out over her forelock as he felt her discomfort.
Dietrich however, was completely fine with her seething hatred that seemed to roll of her bones. "You look so devilishly attractive when you are angry." He purred, his voice taking a deeper, darker tone. The silver bay mare rolled her eyes suggestively and snorted, "Seriously, go ahead and do each other, the sexual tension is tangible." She snorted, clearly done with this confrontation, she rested her hind leg and let her head hang lazily, level with her spine. Wicca shot the young mare a look of disgust and made to retort, but was cut off by Dietrich's maniac laughter. "Villy, that is the best advice you've given your old man...ever." He grinned, flicking his soot tainted tail and moving forward. "I don't like her! She's not very nice!" The childish voice echoed through the scarred brutes skull and it was immediately kicked into a dark abyss by the rational, duty oriented vocals, "Get your big, fat, scarred ass moving, this brindled whore isn't our priority!" The voice lashed out at Dietrich and the childish voice, anger rolling from the voice in waves. Dietrich noticeably flinched at the harsh words, catching Witchcrypt and the colt's eyes. Crimson orbs glared interestingly at the grullo brute. She could instantly see the insanity upon his facials, despite the heavy scarring. Something within her rolled and growled, wanting to stroke the kindling of that fire. The darkest part of her being grinned a wicked, toothy grin. Dominance radiated from her but it vanished as soon as the insane look washed from the brute's facials.
The wind whipped viciously, the snow now soaking into her feathers. Something she had hoped to avoid, but alas, like most things, it happened anyway. Her nares flared against the biting cold wind as it tore at her long, curly tendrils, her youngest daughter pressing against her hindquarters. The biting cold wind brought with it a scent on the air. She racked through her files as her vermilion orbs stayed upon the grullo brute, his own mane and tail lashing wildly around. His daughter and son standing their distance from him, he obviously wasn't a very good father figure. But she could not dwell on that for long, for her mind quickly found the scent under file. Her pitch lips curled. 'About time..' The small voice breathed in her mind, crimson orbs instantly finding the palomino appaloosa brute. She took in every aspect of him again, his huge size, the multiple scars, the red-yellow eyes and finally the brutal scar upon his face. Her memory served her well. "You didn't slip in any more messes. Good job." He spoke and she felt that familiar twist in her body, why she was so attracted to his voice, she'd never know. Dietrich's was just as gravely, well maybe not equally but still deep and rough and yet he did nothing but repulse her. She couldn't help the grin that followed after his, even at his final words. She met his stare head on, sauntering forward, her daughters moving together like they knew to do. She came closer to the palomino, touching her muzzle to his shoulder, unafraid of any retaliation, what were a few more scars? She circled him her long mane brushing against his canon bones, her shoulder brushing against his as she rose her skull, long forelock falling away from her face as she pressed her kissers to the side of his cheek, at the scar upon his face, raising her upper lip slightly and then lowered her skull, creeping beneath his head, side brushing his chest. "I am following you to inform you of a duty you are suppose to be performing." She hissed in her soft vocals, her daughters eyes fixated and learning from their dam.
Dietrich watched the exchange in a trance like state, secretly wishing it was him she was treating in such a familiar way. He snorted in aggitation, his children giving him a look of knowing. "I say we have a group rut, its not gay when its a three-way." He grinned wickedly and gave Meta a wink. Villainess rolled her eyes, snorting in disgust. "Yep, I'm so done with this converstaion." She said, flicking her tail and walking back the way she came, her little brother looking at his father and then his sister and deciding to walk away, Dietrich payed them no mind. He wouldn't mind being a piece of bread in a Wicca sandwich. He moved his hulking frame closer, earning a sharp snap of the dentals from Witchcrypt, even from her position under Meta's nape. He danced away, moving to her rear and she kicked out, clearly not pleased with him. The Bride scoffed and shot forward biting into Dietrich's rump. The black dun brute neighed sharply, bucking out and missing the chestnut missus by inches, he grinned over his shoulder, looking at the blood on his rump. "Feisty, you can join in if you want deary." The Bride instantly took on a disgusted look and walked away, ushering young Maleficent behind her, uttering something about 'Later Mom'. Wicca grunted in response, pressing herself closer to The Meta, just as the vocals of another hit her auds. "Just my luck. You." At first the brindled mare thought he was speaking to her, but the sudden outrage from the grullo beast to her seven o'clock told her otherwise. "You! You crazy motherfucker, what are you doing here?!" Dietrich groaned loudly, utterly not happy.
Dietrich couldn't believe his luck, the last time he had met this...whatever it was, it had gone off about against protocol and had totally baffled the assassin. He grit his teeth, audibly, his mind completely off of the Leader of Cocytus. "What do you want now? Mr. Against Protocol." He hissed, his crazed orbs glaring lustfully at the sabino stallion. " Oh my god, not him. Why him? Anyone but him." The rational voice groaning, burying his face into a black abyss of despair. The childish voice reared his ugly head, " Tear him limb from limb! " Dietrich once again flinched visibly, the rational voice shooting a 'wtf' look at the other, usually docile voice. All was quiet in the mind of the assassin, that is until Wicca spoke up. " Who are you exactly?"
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Major General Dick Biscuit
Full Member
Hell is Empty. All the Devils are Here.
Last Online: Apr 11, 2020 18:25:43 GMT -6
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Post by General SigmaButt σ on May 19, 2014 6:46:26 GMT -6
w e a r e THE Μ Ξ Τ Λ & H A R K N E S SMeta should have known by the smile that took over her features that he was in trouble. As soon as he spoke, her entire demeanor seemed to change. Even upon his demand, she continued to grin. Inferno opts stared into her crimson oculars intensely, silently warning her against what he knew she was going to do. As she began to draw closer, his eyes narrowed minutely. Her daughters followed, which only made him more uneasy. The Meta never did like others being in close proximity to him. Not one bit.
The muscle in his jaw worked as she touched his shoulder. A low growl began to rumble in his chest. It only grew in ferocity the more she rubbed against him. It was a deep, monstrous sound; more worthy of creatures stalking nightmares than a living being. He could feel her long locks brushing his pillars. When her velvets came to rest on his visage, he tilted his head away and his own labrums peeled back in a threatening manner.
His skull throbbed as the voices grew louder and louder the more she touched him. Omega was particularly upset. 'Kill her. NOW! She's touching you! She MUST die! Slaughter the whore! Rip her lips from her mouth. Make an example of her, Meta. Kill. Her.' A violent shudder ripped down his spine as he fought back the overwhelming desire to attack the seraph as the fragment demanded he do. Meta could feel Omega fight the hold of Beta. It made his head ache from the sheer force the embodiment of rage was using.
"I am following you to inform you of a duty you are suppose to be performing." The softly hissed words did little to quell the fire burning inside the bronc. Omega howled in fury, demanding payment in blood. Beta was torn between utter amusement with the mare's brazen nature and irritation with Omega's ire. 'I will end you, asshole. Calm the fuck down. Now.' That only seemed to fuel the fragment's anger further. Meta was silent for moment after her words, muscles taut and Omega's rage blazing in his hellish opts. "I don't like to be touched, Witchcrypt. Step away." His voice took on a different tenor. It was drawn from Omega, making his voice seem even heavier and infinitely more volatile.
He took a deep breath in an attempt to calm his frenzied mind. She was all he could smell and it was driving him insane. After a beat, he continued, his tones edging back to his own voice. "I can and will perform my duties once you figure out just what you have to pay me with. Nothing is ever free." His thunderous voice was flat. It would have been a prime opportunity to slip in an innuendo, but he wasn't the sort to do so. Meta preferred his payments to have tangible benefits. His stalwart frame quaked with Omega's suppressed fury. Beta, having had enough of his tantrum, began suffocating him with her power. The fragment fought her as best he could, but it was a losing battle. The overwhelming hatred and ire began to drain from the beast. It's intense heat was replaced by Beta's arctic chill. His bod was no longer strung tight with tension and the madness wasn't so evident in his oculars. While he still didn't like another in such close proximity to him, he wasn't quite so eager to eviscerate them now.
An almost irritated snort drew his attention back to dark brute who stood just a bit shorter than himself. "I say we have a group rut, its not gay when its a three-way." At that, Meta couldn't help but snort. A low chuckle rumbled deep in his chest. "Sounds like the Assassin's creed; 'it isn't gay if the balls don't touch.' " Being a mercenary, one of the things Meta enjoyed doing was trading insults with his assassin brethren. Unbeknownst to him, Dietrich was an assassin himself. Beta laughed heartily. 'Classy, Meta. Sounds about right, though.'
"Yep, I'm so done with this converstaion." Meta watched in mild amusement as the young mare left, clearly not enjoying the conversation at hand. The colt, who Meta assumed was her brother, followed her steps after a moments hesitation. His attention was then drawn to the bronc, who he realized he didn't know the name of. The fact didn't bother him. The hessian seemed to be toying with Witchcrypt. She, in turn, snapped at him like a cobra, not bothering to move further from her post at Meta's broad chest. He watched, mildly entertained as the two went back and forth. His amusement rose when one of Wicca's daughters bit the bronc. It drew a throaty chuckle from his vocals. "Feisty, you can join in if you want deary." Meta just rolled his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips as he muttered to himself. "What the fuck did I walk in to?"
The atmosphere changed drastically as another male made his presence known. "Just my luck. You." The newcomer and the scarred czar appeared to have a rather vitriolic history if their greeting words were anything to go by. "You! You crazy motherfucker, what are you doing here?!" Meta just watched the exchange, even more entertained than before. The slate hessian let loose a loud, obviously displeased groan. "What do you want now? Mr. Against Protocol." Meta took this moment to look from the groaning brute, to the bright eyed and straight faced male, to the female pressed close to his person. "Seriously, what the fuck did I walk in to?"
Harkness couldn't help the mild satisfaction he got upon seeing the brute's reaction to his arrival. The feelings were clearly mutual. "You! You crazy motherfucker, what are you doing here?!" Harkness gave him an almost condescending look. "Walking. You just so happened to be in the area I'm heading. Unfortunately." He did nothing to hide the traces of contempt from coloring his even voice.
His AI recorded and picked apart he male's words, sending Harkness the feedback including pitch, tenor, and possible double meanings. It also took note of his exterior vital signs and matched it up with the prior information to look for inconsistencies and possible lies. While unnecessary at the moment, he didn't stop the quick routine from taking place. The readouts flashed across his vision in semi translucent script. "What do you want now? Mr. Against Protocol." Harkness gave him another demeaning look. His voice was deadpan and drier than the desert. "If I told you I want you to walk off a cliff, I don't suppose you'd do it. Your insults are still weak as fuck, by the way." His visage was straight as ever as he spoke. A familiar voice warned him of the possibility of violence increasing each time he spoke. As usual, he ignored the voice.
"Who are you exactly?" Electric optics snapped from the seething czar to the large appaloosa bronc and the dark femme by him. Information flashed across his vision as he looked them both over. He took particular notice of the male's facial scar. 'Intricate. Unnatural. Searching for information on the symbol. Search complete. No data found as a whole. Based on individual portions, it seems to be of Greek origin. Noted letters: Omega, Sigma, Iota, Delta, Gamma, and Xi. Significance unknown. Possible mental instability.' He also took notice of the mare's exceedingly long locks and vermillion opts. 'Eyes seem more luminescent than natural. Chimera anomaly noted. Enamels are sharper than a herbivores should be. Possible deformity.'
The examination took but a quick glance to perform. He noted no outright aggression from the two, but he was sure to not get comfortable around them. Their readouts didn't reassure him of the two just yet. He had to clamp down on the desire to respond to her inquiry with 'Designation: Android Number 3, Product Line 21. A3-21 for convenience.' It was how he had been programmed to respond to such prompting. However, he had thankfully learned to control the automated response. He has been working vigorously on rewriting his coding and wiping any trace of his past away. Now, he could respond with the name he chose. "I'm Harkness." He looked between the three. Though he may be unfamiliar with any of them, he didn't exactly have the urge to ask for their names. His AI wanted him to ask, just so it could further process and file away the information for future use, but he overrode the subtle command.
It seemed unnecessary as the large bronc with the odd facial scar and eyes of fire spoke up. "The Meta." His voice was deep and rough, almost unnaturally so. 'Vocal pitch frequency: 74 hZ. Significantly lower than average. Possible cause: Vocal folds are longer and thicker than they should be. Cannot confirm without further information.' The information buzzed in his ear, though he paid it little mind, not really interested in learning about his voice. What he found curious was what he said. 'The Meta.' Harkness assumed he was introducing himself. However, the phrasing is what threw him off. He addressed himself as a thing. It could be just an odd name, or it could be a sign of further instability. He'd look for further evidence with time. Harkness' attention then flicked to the stallion who seemed to make his blood boil before landing back on the mare who had questioned him.
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The Geneticist
Friendly reminder that even if it takes ages to reply, I still wanna rp with you.
Last Online: Nov 14, 2023 20:02:01 GMT -6
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Post by Δ Beauty With The Booty on May 20, 2014 20:47:52 GMT -6
WITCHCRYPT && DiETRICH Wicca let a soft, very feminine purr elicit from her chest, pressing her flesh to his, his words ringing in her ears. " I don't like to be touched, Witchcrypt. Step away." His chest rumbling against her shoulder and she couldn't help but grin, despite herself. The hairs on the back of her nape rose in anticipation of the threat he perceived, her body reacting to the anger that radiated off of him. "Angered through simple touch? Tsk, tsk, Meta, we will have to work on that." She purred softly, flicking her long tag against his side and nipping his shoulder in an affectionate manner. She knew that she was in the firing range, but any bite or kick from him would only make this game worth while. "Though I do enjoy how anger affects you, Meta, its very...attractive." 'For lack of a better word...' She grumbled at her lack of clever wordings but brushed it off just as quickly as it came.
She had come to Meta and enlisted him to train her to fight, and she intended to keep him in her sights until that was done. ' Cough, never, cough.' She thought with a wicked grin. But first, she had to get him to actually perform his job. "I can and will perform my duties once you figure out just what you have to pay me with. Nothing is ever free." She hummed at his words, her blood stained eyes looking over at the scarred brute, his blue and gold eyes intently watching them. She felt protected beneath Meta's nape, as if the world couldn't breech this barrier of safety he provided, even though he did not want to be touched. She pressed closer as Dietrich leered at her. "Tell me, Meta, what payment do you desire?" Soft, cooing vocals poured forth from her kissers, crimson orbs moving back to the palomino brute. "...Payment of a favor...of flesh. A child maybe? Or perhaps a title? Mmmm?" Pearl white dentals flashed as she made to nip at his neck, sharp canines closing just before they caught flesh, pressing against the hide of the stallion instead, lips pulled back in a sort of snarl. "Oooooh, this is getting kinky. Keep going." Wicca instantly rolled her eyes, removing her muzzle from Meta's nape and glaring at Dietrich, who had seemingly forgotten about the other stallion, despite the insults that were thrown his way.
"Your boyfriend is calling you, sugar tits." She snapped out, her sharp dentals clicking together much like an alligator. Before Dietrich could retaliate, the new stallion spoke up, earning Wicca's attention, black harks pinned forward as she looked over her shoulder at him. "Walking. You just so happened to be in the area I'm heading. Unfortunately." She grinned, giving Dietrich a side-long glance, her hark flickering to Meta as he muttered something, the only word she caught being 'fuck'. She whipped her skull around giving him a long glance, but before she could question it, Dietrich spoke up and she whipped her skull back around. At this rate, she was going to pull a muscle. 'Maybe Meta can rub it out..mmmm yes.'
"Or maybe your little processors are just looking for a fight?" The grullo brute snarled, flicking his long black tail repeatedly in agitation. 'Where did this guy spawn from? A nuclear explosion? Get rid of him!' The rational voice pined, still face down into his abyss of despair. Dietrich let out a audible growl, almost predator-like, which is exactly what he was, a predator. His bi-colored eyes completely set on ripping this 'Harkness' apart. His mind took a completely 360 degree turn, away from the brindled mare and appaloosa stallion, his sights set on Harkness. The aloof expression upon the stallion only served to further piss the bronc off, his nares flaring wide and angrily. "If I told you I want you to walk off a cliff, I don't suppose you'd do it. Your insults are still weak as fuck, by the way." Dietrich's mind shut down for two whole seconds, eyes blankly staring at the stallion. At this time, Wicca shot a look at Dietrich, amusement dancing in her vermilion eyes. She was thoroughly enjoying seeing the grullo beast squirm. 'Haha, look at him squirm.' Dark lips curled into a grin, vermilion orbs switching to look at the electric blue ones of the new comer. He was significantly better looking than Dietrich, but she couldn't hound that too well into her own mind, despite his personality, Dietrich was oddly handsome. "I'm Harkness." Her black auds flickered forward, out of the confines of her thick forelock. "An interesting name for an interesting fellow." She grinned, shifting against Meta's chest slightly. At this time, she turned back towards Meta, his question still registered in her mind, "I wish I could answer for you, but I haven't the slightest idea. But it is funny as hell." She grinned like a kid in a candy store.
" No one cares what your damn name is Harkly." Dietrich seethed, stepping forward in a menacing way. He did not particularly like this freak getting into his business, especially when there was forest everywhere around them, that he could have taken to completely avoid the scarred brute. So, in Dietrich's mind, Harkness had come up on purpose, just to poke at the assassin's mind. "The Meta." The deep and rumbling vocals of the palomino bronc brought everyone's attention to him, Wicca snorted in indignation, nipping Meta a bit harshly on his shoulder. She didn't feel comfortable giving this stallion their names, he was obviously different and only God knew what he would do with their names. Not that she was usually like this, but for some reason she suddenly didn't want to be too friendly, and those feelings reached out to the Meta, even Dietrich, though she had no idea if this 'Harkness' knew the assassin's name yet.
Dietrich gave The Meta an incredulous look, odd eyes wide in realization. ' Well shit, just our luck, there he is.' The voice echoed and Dietrich silently agreed, turning his skull around as he heard movement, perceiving it to be Harkness but found that he hadn't moved, or at least looked like he hadn't. Witchcrypt slowly moved from beneath Meta's nape to stand at his side, brows knit together in concentration, not yet revealing her name. She just hoped the two brutes with her wouldn't do that for her. "Now that you've seen this nice piece of ass and her boy toy, why don't you gather up your little neutrons and go away. Dietrich hissed, referring to Wicca and the Meta not so subtly.
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Major General Dick Biscuit
Full Member
Hell is Empty. All the Devils are Here.
Last Online: Apr 11, 2020 18:25:43 GMT -6
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Post by General SigmaButt σ on Jun 10, 2014 19:10:31 GMT -6
w e a r e THE Μ Ξ Τ Λ & H A R K N E S SHe could feel the purr coming from her chest just as well as he could hear it and it made his eyes narrow. Nothing he did should have prompted this sort of reaction from the vix. If anything, she should, at the very least, be frightened or irritated, not aroused. "Angered through simple touch? Tsk, tsk, Meta, we will have to work on that." His flesh tingled where her tassels hit him. Then, he felt her teeth dig into his shoulder lightly, likely meaning to be affectionate, but The Meta took it as a sign of aggression, a challenge. A snarl ripped through his larynx and he dug his enamels into the back of her nape, no affection to be found in the action. When he pulled back, the taste of crimson lingered on his lips and tongue. His voice was rough with anger. "You will have to work on not touching me."
"Though I do enjoy how anger affects you, Meta, its very...attractive." Another low growl rumbled deep in his chest. Fiery opts burned into any piece of flesh of hers they landed upon. Omega was shaking in his binds, trying his damnedest to escape and take over, just to mutilate the warrioress in the most horrific ways he could. "I don't care to be attractive, Witchcrypt." His penetrating gaze drifted from her to the grullo bronc watching them. Meta didn't know his name yet, nor did he really care to. The slate brute leered at Witchcrypt and Meta felt her press just that much closer to his bod, causing Meta to grimace. He didn't quite care that the other male was staring lecherously at her, nor did he care if it made her uncomfortable. It wasn't his business.
She steered the conversation back to an actually meaningful topic; her contract. "Tell me, Meta, what payment do you desire?...Payment of a favor...of flesh. A child maybe? Or perhaps a title? Mmmm?" A warning snarl started pouring from his throat as he noticed her getting ready to nip him once more. It seemed the action was for naught as she stopped herself. Instead, she pressed flush against him, velvets curled in an almost snarl. That was something he could find more attractive; snarling and fighting. "Titles are useless to me; flesh even more so. Children only get in the way. A favor...that will have to do."
"Oooooh, this is getting kinky. Keep going." Meta's attention turned to the stallion, an almost amused smirk tempting his velvets. At least someone was getting entertainment. "Your boyfriend is calling you, sugar tits." At this, Meta snorted. A chuckle then poured from his throat as his gaze drifted between the two grullo broncs who quite obviously despised one another. When Meta muttered to himself, he noticed Wicca give him a long look. He gave her steady stare back. "Or maybe your little processors are just looking for a fight?" A malignant smirk began creeping up Meta's velvets. 'This is getting good.' Beta's voice echoed in his skull and he couldn't help but agree.
Harkness, however, could very much disagree. Piercing electric opts burned into his opposition's. His gaze could very well be considered a glare, even though there had been no change in facial expression. The intense hatred emanating from the painted czar spoke volumes of his feelings toward the other grullo stallion. Harkness took a few confident steps toward the brute, oculars never leaving the other's. He halted short a few feet, the action clearly stating a challenge. "I wasn't before, but maybe I am now. You volunteering?" His tone and expression stayed just as flat as ever. He didn't need to growl and sneer to get his point across. Harkness' presence said it all.
The integrated artificial intelligence unit quickly took in all the signs of agitation in the brute, calculated the odds of a fight and gave a time frame of possible attacks. The readout scrolled silently across his vision, but he ignored it, only caring enough to check out the window in which the other might attack. Then, Harkness noticed his reaction to his words and he would have smirked triumphantly if his facial expressions ranged that far. Instead, he oh so slightly cocked his head at an arrogant, challenging angle.
Meta was watching the show down with intense interest and amusement. He was trying to wager the odds mentally on who would win. Even the fragments were betting on one or the other, each coming up with different reasons on why one would win or lose. It was a relatively split decision in his head. His attention momentarily diverted to Wicca as she spoke. "I wish I could answer for you, but I haven't the slightest idea. But it is funny as hell." He gave a low chuckle, nodding slightly in agreement. "It definitely is. Who's your bet on?" Meta was waiting for the fragments to come to a decision favoring one side. After a moment of silence, he spoke once more, voice low as if he were trying to not interrupt the mounting feud. "Think I'll go with the darker one. More scars. More battles."
He could see scars criss-crossing the other, Harkness' flesh as well. They were different, however. Not all wounds obtained from a battle. Some seemed too neat and particularly placed. Meta seen similar wounds on old prisoners his side would take in. That made him mildly suspicious of the bright eyed male. Delta chimed in with a point in Harkness' favor. If he had been a prisoner, then he had to have escaped somehow. It meant he's craftier than Meta originally expected. Still, he kept his bet on the other bronc.
" No one cares what your damn name is Harkly." Harkness actually snorted, eyes bore into the other's intensely. "You're right. She didn't ask for my name." Even though his voice was dry, the sarcasm in his words was blaringly obvious. "You're some special breed of dipshit, aren't you?" At this, The Meta snorted, a gritty laugh rumbling in his chest. This interaction was priceless. When he introduced himself, however, all eyes turned to him. He stared each one of them down. Then, he felt Wicca's pearls dig into his flesh once more, harsher than last time. A god-awful snarl ripped from his chest as he retaliated with his own teeth. "Stop." His demand was directed to Wicca.
He felt her move away from him and his lips peeled back, ready for any chance that she might attack. Meta highly doubted it, but he wasn't trained to react to violence so easily. Then, he caught the look the grullo brute was giving him; something bordering on disbelief and Meta gave him an almost confused look. There was nothing he could recall that he said or did to warrant such a look. That was quickly wiped away, however, when his attention was drawn back to Harkness. "Now that you've seen this nice piece of ass and her boy toy, why don't you gather up your little neutrons and go away."
Harkness met him with his ever-straight expression, and, for a moment, The Meta wondered how he managed to keep his face and voice so expressionless and if he ever reacted to anything before. Then, his attention turned to Dietrich, almost in surprise. "Boy toy? What the fuck?" Harkness didn't turn his attention from the other grullo. "Bitching out again? I'll 'take my neutrons' and leave once you fuck off and fall into a pit." Harkness never was one to hold his tongue and maintain a civil conversation. This was something Meta was noticing quite clearly.
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The Geneticist
Friendly reminder that even if it takes ages to reply, I still wanna rp with you.
Last Online: Nov 14, 2023 20:02:01 GMT -6
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Post by Δ Beauty With The Booty on Jun 23, 2014 18:01:00 GMT -6
The temptress snaked her body against Meta, thoroughly enjoying being skin to skin with the beast of a stallion. Ever since the fae had met the beast, he had been like this. Standoffish and very, very antisocial. She needed to work on that. She did not care if his communication skills ever improved with anyone else, but she hoped they did with her. These one sided conversations weren't going anywhere. She could still taste him on her tongue a throaty snarl ripped from his vocal cords; at first, she thought it was a sound of arousal, or affection but the dull dentals to her neck told her otherwise. She felt her skin tear and the bitch neighed harshly, baring her dentals and throwing her head up, towards him, lifting up slightly on her hinds. Her shoulder bumped into his lower nape as her head towered over his, souly from her rearing up while he was still on all fours. She came crashing down as he spoke, her soot colored auds were gone, buried in her thick black tresses. 'Oh, you know that's never gonna happen.' She sneered, letting out a snarl of her own, sharp dentals bared in a threat.
She chuckled heartily as he growled, "I don't care to be attractive, Witchcrypt." She grinned up at him. "Apparently, your mind doesn't agree with your body." She snarled, a hint of playfulness nestled into the boiling mix of emotions upon her face and burning in her blood eyes. Her skin felt hot where his eyes roamed, leaving the brindled mare flushed, her jaws opening in huffs as she attempted to catch her breath. To him and the other brutes, it would look like she was showing her anger off or had just run ten miles. Crimson irises stared into the nearly matching, incubus eyes of The Meta, daring him to make a move; and clearly telling him she would retaliate. But his gold-red hued orbs shot to the little shit known as Dietrich, her own optics glaring upon the heavily scarred brute. He made her skin crawl..and not in the good way. She wished he would suck his nuts back up and go bother some other poor soul. "Titles are useless to me; flesh even more so. Children only get in the way. A favor...that will have to do." Meta's deep, enticing vocals brought her attention from the grullo brute and she gave him a sidelong glance. 'Children get in the way...don't I know it.' She said, one invisible brow raised and an unamused smirk on her lips; her vermilion orbs shot to her two daughters in the distance and she took a deep breath before turning her attention back to Meta. 'What is this favor you would ask of me, darling? I am quite positive I can make it happen.' The mistress of Cocytus wanted to get this decided, and quick. She wanted her training to begin, and soon. Primarily because she needed the training, to hone her skills, but also because she wanted more time with The Meta.
Dietrich's raspy vocals hit her auds and she gave him a long glance, his blue-gold optics latching onto hers and giving her a lecherous grin. Dietrich utterly enjoyed messing with the mare. It gave him a sense of glee that was unmatched by anything he had encountered. He and the bitch had met many times before, the first time he had met the red eyed dame, was at a Dark meeting, the one that crowned the Empress Nirvana. At that time, she was nothing but a mere foal. He had taken a liking to her then, when her coat had not even begun to shine. When she looked more like a pile of mud with her chocolate colored baby hair. And now look at her. Filled out and strikingly beautiful. He had been there on her first breeding season, attempting to get a piece of the brindled missus. He had failed, but he had also left scars. Mental and Physical. His duo-toned orbs flitted to look upon the rump of the Cocytus Queen. Deep, gnarled, long, jagged scars littered her rump and barrel. Most of them all from attempted rapes. Him being one of them. The bastard, Charon, had succeeded and this made the grullo bastard's blood boil. Who was this buckskin brute..Charon, who was he that thought he could touch the witch? Daughter of Lucifer? "You're boyfriend's calling you, sugar tits." The dark vocals of Witchcrypt hit him and he narrowed his eyes at her. It went unnoticed though, even through Meta's chuckle. Red irises looked deep into the fiery orbs of the stallion, wanting to keep that stare for as long as possible, but it was short lived, for the two grullos were at it again.
Dietrich turned his full attention to Harkness, snorting as he pinned his auds. 'Fine, let's get rid of this wack job so we can speak to The Meta.' The voice was obviously not pleased but Dietrich snarled and drowned the voice out. "I wasn't before, but maybe I am now. You volunteering?" It irritated the scarred czar that the splashed brute did not need to change his expression to intimidate or get his point across. Dietrich's mis-matched orbs glared at Harkness as he lurched forward, slowly, head low; his auds hidden in his thick forelock. Red oculars followed the scarred bastard's bodice. Witchcrypt watched him move, the way his stride was sure and quick, the concentration upon the ruined face. She noted the way his tail was low and pressed to his rump. Dietrich was serious. She rose her own skull from its lowered position, nares flaring wide. "It definitely is. Who's your bet on?" Meta's vocals brought her back out of her realm of concentration and she looked up at him. She had a lost look on her face for a moment before she turned critical and serious, invisible brows knitting together as she studied the two brutes. "Think I'll go with the darker one. More scars. More battles." Meta spoke again and she looked up at him, all flirting gone from her face. "I have fought Dietrich, I know how he works, but our fight was on different...circumstances...I haven't seen this, Harkness, fight but I'd have to say my vote is on him." She paused, looking back at the two stallions, "Dietrich is an assassin, he's not much on straight-forward attacks, oh no, he'd rather sneak up on his target." She said, standing straight and letting her crimson eyes fall upon the two again.
"You're right. She didn't ask for my name. You're some special kind of dipshit, aren't you?" Meta's reaction to this triggered Wicca's. She was doing so well keeping it in until Meta had decided to show some emotion and she joined in. Her snort turned into a soft chuckle; that is until she felt his teeth on her. She could still taste him on her tongue, and her nape was still dripping blood from his last bite. His snarl made her shiver but did not prepare her for the bite. She bared her dentals, turning her rump to the palomino brute and bucking out, but she was too close and the attack didn't have the desired effect. She danced a short distance away, halting when Dietrich spoke up. 'Let us see you shut that trap and actually do some real damage, freak.' Dietrich's raspy vocals snarled and he lurched at Harkness, dentals baring and reaching for flesh. "Boy toy? What the fuck?" Wicca let out a deep chuckle, snaking her way back to stand beside him. But her eyes didn't last long on Meta, they were soon glued to the fight. Dietrich breezed past Harkness as his teeth reached for flesh, hinds bucking out once he reached the other stallion's rump.
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