» { SIGNORE DELLA NOTTE }

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dracul

[ SIGNORE DELLA NOTTE ]

The night was settle, but all that was about to change as the hellish brute stalked the southernmost edge of the unclaimed land. Dracul felt like the time to rightfully make his claim upon this disenchanting land was drawing nearer. He had circled the entire area at least five times over a matter of a week or two. He had discovered every perfection and every flaw in it, and what lurked around its borders. He could now safely say he knew the land like he had been raised up in it. Why had he waited so long to make his claim, though, one might ask? Simple. Dracul was not an impulsive, foolish stag like most. He refused to take over any place he did not know well, for ruling over a strange place was a disaster waiting to happen. Anyone could get lost in the labyrinth of trees if they were not familiar with them and took to them with strong strides of confidence. However, Dracul now knew the land. He could feel it, interact with it even. And now he could control it.

Dracul made his first step within the land, and inhaled its smokey fumes. It was as if the legendary fire from long ago was still alive, feeding on what was left of ash covered trees, desperately trying to survive the sparks thrown at them and the flames licking up their trunks. It was truly inspiring to the darker of beings, and it was appreciated by Dracul. Another thing he liked about it; One could never be used to the fumes. They were always there, unsettling the newcomers to the land; persuading them into thinking they would soon be engulfed by hungry, dancing flames. This place was truly second to only Hell itself. At this thought, Dracul let a smirk find itself onto his features. Yes. Now was the time to make his claim. Now was the time to announce the arrival of a new ruler in the dark domains.

Finding a somewhat tall, steep hill overhanging and looking over an almost barren field of browning grasses, the shadowy hessian bolted at top speed for the edge as if he were going to commit suicide. Limbs churned mechanically, and muscles rotated and bounced beneath a rough, gray skin and and a sleek black pelt. His whipcords waved behind him like a flag, and his rags tangled around his devilish facade as he stopped abruptly at the hills edge. He brought himself into a full rear with ease, fighting to stay on his hind limbs for a few long moments as he striked out violantly to keep his balance. His chords let out a blood curdling scream across the kingdom as he made it be known that he was the new lead stallion of this place.

Dracul has made a claim for Burnt Bushland.

[s p o n g e]

Accepted as lead.