Koven

[lily]

Name: Koven
Age: 10
Breed: Akhal-Teke X Egyptian Arab
Height: 17.1hh.
Colour: Bay
Eye Colour: Blue
Gender: Stallion
Markings: Three white socks

History:

He comes from one of myriad wastelands within the far Eastern deserts. Where the days, would roll effortlessly into nights, without conquest. Where dunes, of tremendous billon praised the heavens- reaching up and begging for mercy. The sky was limitless, the baring sun as unforgiving as the creatures that resides within its quarters. Koven was the second born of his kin, more will be spoken of her later- a prince who was born into this infringement world, not knowing what to expect from its chauvinistic grasps. His tale is unlike that of others. He was not deserted as a foal; there were no blazing flames that consumed his parents in a vicious slaughter; nor was there any brutal capturing of his bodice by the two legged where he would have undoubtedly had of undergone narcotic torturing. His childhood was perfected planned. An unflawed blueprint, which would, one day, lead him to the heights of superiority. As a colt, Koven craved dominance. It was etched deeply into his genes, something he had no physical control over.

His father was a rouge and reckless fiend, a monster who would agate terror deep into the hearts of all those who were of his concern. A beast that held the incredible gift of superior strength and knowledge, it was almost as if he could bend the will of others at the muttering of a word. The credulous Koven would always be in relentless awe of his father. Studying and scrutinizing each of his movements before applying them. His parents did not show any concern about their son, he was free to act as he wished. Of course, they would guide him. They would instigate situations in which their son’s talents were able to glimmer blazingly. Little, did the yearling that was Koven know that he was in fact being intensely trained, like a lamb for slaughter. He was taught the harsh reality of battle, the tongue of others and the skill required to diminish even the most complicated calculations. Koven fought in innumerable battles and dictated several platoons of warriors in the time of war, to inevitable and lustful victory. Koven was an unstoppable force. He had developed into a fine beast. Resilient, agile, and swifter than all other colts in his father’s herd. He had earned their respect and was well on his way to becoming a war general when nature reared its ugly head and struck hard.

A time of grave peril had overshadowed the world. Something that Koven and not even his father could control. A time that many can remember the great cull of men. It still haunts many to this day. Wild horse herds were being seeked out and destroyed, to make room for the modern man. Only certain areas in the rapidly decreasing world were unseen from the men, and it was up to the dark herd to be first to claim these new lands. They would be the almighty rulers of them all. They were the first band of warriors to pass into the unknown borders, venturing further into the deserts, then anybody had dared to before.

Mother Nature decided to strike; she had calculated a devastating sand storm with waves reaching over the tallest of cacti. She intended to play with these nobles of evil, break their souls before she broke their bones. These equine lords were blessed with unusually extensive lives, but they can be taken by the unknown, just as easily as they were given their supremacy. There was a tornado of shingles; it swelled around them for an endless period. Picking of victims on by one, savouring each moment of its foul slaughtering. Koven’s parents, along with many of the prodigious herd lost their existence to the sands. Koven found his dam and sire half buried in the dunes, their eyes still open; glazed with life. Yet, any existence within them: extinguished.




He wept for a fleeting epoch. He had just lost those who had created him. The horses, which had banished his sister, in order to raise him. The infallible son. He just perished. They had no died in vain. Although, the herd of darkness had fallen, Koven was not about to let it diminish into the dust forever. He would carry on his father’s legacy and create his own band of formidable creature, beasts that would rule the scum that cowered around the lands. Until the day that ‘Koven’, generated a chilling veil to be hoisted over another. He found this reprieve in the form of two other stallions. They were named Hunter and Ranger. The limping stranger and the satanic monstrosity.

Koven met Ranger first having travelled far from the Eastern lands, he cropped upon the foreigner. Ranger was not in the best shape when they met, he seemed acutely distraught, something Koven had never had time for. Emotions were just a clause to prevent the excruciating show of weakness. Koven was anything but, weak. Koven soon learned this was because Ranger had been seized by the ‘two-legs’ and had been forced to suffer their obscene endearments. He had eventually escaped an achievement not to be taken lightly. Absconding, the humans were a triumphant feat, one Koven immediately esteemed him for. The obsidian titan had not come off unscathed; he bore the mark of man. Gradually, over time, the stallions grew close together. The learned that for they had lost ones who were dear to them. Koven didn’t have any siblings that he had ever actually encountered, but he supposed Ranger was as close as any brother ever would have been.

The pair enticed a few stray mares to journey with them, calling them their own. They were treated like royalty at Ranger’s hand. Koven couldn’t help feeling a certain ‘buzz’ about him, every time that they overpowered another mare. It made him feel inexorable. As if nothing in the world could touch him. He should have learnt from last time. They had secured a bunch of loyal mare each carrying the seed of the gentleman that they desired. Mares would come and go, many lusting after one of the stallions attributes to assure them of a becoming offspring. It didn’t matter, the stallions were young they did not think too much of their actions.

Another was to join their predominantly harmonious hierarchy. Hunter had come from an unknown source, they didn’t ask questions. He came to them and asked for their support, such a male could not be turned away. He had too many desirable qualities about him. Mares would be fighting amongst themselves at the sight of the three stallions. Hunter soon settled into life of the herd, he became a brother. They were young, carefree and reckless. They travelled together; stealing herd’s willing mares by night and returning them by day. Each day was a new adventure that the brother’s would share together. Oblivious of the changing tides around them.


Tension slowly began to creep into the group. Hunter soon sought after more. He quickly grew tired of pilfering mares. He wanted them to be his own. All of them. In his eyes, the unusually set herd deserved more mares then the other herds. The brothers secured many more mares, each season they would birth and the stallion’s bloodlines would be set of into the great unknown. It soon became almost a competition to who could produce the most heirs. They were selectively breeding mares without any real observations. Each stallion was out for himself. They wanted only the best for themselves. It would seem the idealistic setup they had created, was not as flawless as first thought. Ranger was the only one who remained grounded about the situation, whilst Koven and Hunter battled viciously about creating the ultimate progeny.


Hunter, began to succumb to the ugly monster that had deliberately begun to devour him. Some days, Koven would catch the inked hessian muttering ancient languages to himself, only he really knew what curses he was setting. He would snap at the mares and beat them if they turned a hoof wrong. He became overly paranoid and caused fights with the others over miniscule issues. Koven said nothing. If Hunter became a delirious monster then it was none of his concern. In fact, it would be easier for him to continue on his journey to greatness. It was a grave day when the era of the brothers concluded.

They skies had cast themselves a protective shield of darkness, in preparation of the crazed beasts that battle beneath it. Hunter had turned. He had killed a foal. Something, neither Ranger nor Koven would stand for. So, a battle was ignited. They fought in utter peril for hours. Each brother, beating the other for some vindictive crime, which they had been committed off. The battle was filled of empty insults and pitiless threats. Blood was split that day, the blood of too many innocent bystanders. Hunter the destroyer and Ranger the protector. Where had Koven stood? Koven was the Prince of Thieves. He shimmered out of the battle grounds and stole the mares taking them to a place of comfort. He had his plans, his callous plans that were so expertly planned out. Never mind his head that raged with blood-lust. He was blinded by the over powering desire for authority. They dusk of the day came and a dishevelled Hunter emerged from the shadows. Ranger had left to find his lost sister’s. He had left Koven with this beast?! He had been so sure that Ranger would be victorious that he had not fixated this result. Hunter stayed with the herd and Koven soon travelled from joint leader to deputy to an unranked soldier at his dictator’s side. Hunter had begun his quest. They fought many herds, killed uncountable times and stole hundreds of mares. Each a disposable creature for Hunter’s bidding.

In the dead of night Koven vanished,

His master’s call broken, he was free, for now,

One day his master’s song shall sing again and he will have no choice but to answer.