The air was thick with tension as Uruk led Asa through the Buffalo Knolls and away from the home they once knew, blood still littered upon his heavy frame, his hooves leaving imprints beneath him in the soft earth. The landscape around them was both eerie and majestic - large, hill shaped mounds rose from the ground, each one coated in lush grass that shimmered like emeralds in the late afternoon light. Thin trees stood like sentinels atop some of the mounds, their branches swaying gently in the breeze, casting long shadows that danced across the hills.

Uruk's muscles rippled beneath his thick hide as he moved, scanning the horizon with his ghostly white gaze. The Buffalo Knolls were a place of legend, a sacred land where the spirits of the hunted were said to roam. He did not want to leave. The scent of the grass here was intoxicating, rich with life and history... the beast would stall, his mind reeling with thought.

Uruk's hooves dug into the earth as he came to a sudden stop, his breath heavy and uneven. The Buffalo Knolls had a pull on him that he couldn't quite shake - a magnetic force that beckoned him to stay, to conquer. The thick scent of the grass and the ancient spirits in the air stirred something primal within him. This land, with its rolling mounds and whispers of the past, felt like it was calling out to him. Take what is yours. It was as if the very ground beneath his hooves was demanding blood - a sacrifice to solidify is claim.

His mind churned with thoughts of the past, the weight of his father's words still heavy on his shoulders. The old fool had banished him, had called him bloodthirsty and crazy, but Uruk knew the truth. His father's way was one of weakness, of pacifism, and it had no place here on his lands. This land needed someone stronger to protect it, someone who wasn't afraid to spill blood, to claim. And if that meant tearing down the very herd he was born into, so be it.

Uruk's ghostly white eyes narrowed as his decision solidified. He would not flee from this place; he would claim it as his own. The Gor'rok Clan would rise here, in the land of its ancestors, and it would be a force unmatched by any other. But, first, he would have to deal with his father and any of his loyal followers who stood in his way.

"Asa," he rumbled, his voice low and filled with the promise of violence. He swung his head around, his still bloodied horn cleaning against the climbing sun in the sky. He looked to her and although he did not want to command her to come with him, he knew she shared his hunger for something stronger, a desire to see the weak removed from the Knolls. "...we are not leaving. Stay close."

With that, Uruk wheeled around, his massive form moving with a speed that belied his size. His muscles worked beneath his gray hide, ready to unleash the fury that had been building within him all this time. The landscape blurred as he charged back toward the heart of the Knolls, where is father's herd roamed in ignorant peace.

As he crested the main hill of his father's territory, the herd came into view, grazing in the serene silence of the afternoon. They looked like they belonged here, like they had found solace in the soft grasses and gentle breezes. But Uruk knew better. They were interlopers, undeserving of the land they walked on and too weak to hold it.

His father stood at the center of the herd, his once powerful form now softened by age and the delusions of peace. The sight of him sparked a fresh wave of anger in Uruk's chest, his nostrils flaring as he exhaled with force. He had spent too long under this stallion's rule, too long stifling his true nature.

Uruk did not waste time with words. He charged down the hill, his hooves thundering like the storm he was, each strike a promise of the violence to come. The herd's heads snapped up in alarm, but by then it was too late. Uruk's father barely had time to register the attack before his son was upon him. The impact was brutal, a clash of power and fury as Uruk rammed his horned head into the father's side. The older stallion staggered, his eyes wide with shock and pain as blood poured from where he had been impaled. Uruk did not relent. He used his size and strength to push his Shire father back, away from the herd, to fight.

His father would listen to his own anger then, his eyes coming alive with a fire that Uruk had never seen. It amused Uruk. Age and complacency had dulled his edge, no matter how much rage he may feel now. It was too late. Uruk's assault was too much for the old stallion, he was too fast. Too strong. Each charge of his horn, stomp of his hoof, bite of his teeth... was a message: This land is mine. You are no longer fit to lead.

Uruk's breath began to come in harsh gasps, but he felt no fatigue, only the thrill of the fight. His father's legs buckled, and he stumbled, crashing into the ground with a grunt of pain. Uruk loomed over him, his chest heaving, his eyes cold.

"This.. is your end," Uruk growled, his voice laced with contempt. "You were never fit to lead this herd. Your own weakness has brought you to this moment."

His father looked up to him, a mixture of fear and regret in his eyes. "Uruk, this is madness..." he croaked, but the words were lost on Uruk. He had already made up his mind. With a final crushing blow, Uruk's horn rammed through his father's eye and into his skull, leaving his body limp. Using a massive hoof to keep his father's body still, the cold-hearted stallion pushed the body off his horn and immediately whipped his head around to scan the herd, ready to stand up against anyone that would protest his claim.

"This land belongs to the strong," Uruk declared, his voice carrying across the herd. "A new order will rise here, and those who are not fit to join will be driven out."

The silence that followed was heavy, filled with unspoken understanding that a new era had begun. Uruk's father lay defeated at his feet, and with him, the old ways were buried.

"Speech"

CODE BY SIN

Bloodthirsty. Aggressive. Barbaric. Rapacious... Just a few of the words used to describe Asa. Words spewed from the velveteen lips of the very herd to whom she'd pledged fealty. Well, she had a few words for them in return. Cowards! Weaklings! Cravens! Curs! Faint-hearted recreants, all of them! How dare they order her to leave? Was it their plan to feed a foal to the wolves and bears and wildcats every season? Was it their plan to roll over and show belly like some worthless dog every time danger showed its biting face? Asa's own dam had been stolen away by predators. She'd come to learn to fight honestly, her skills honed with expert care to prevent such things from happening ever again. And yet the herds stallion refused to see the benefit of having one unafraid to shed blood; unafraid to receive scars and wounds to protect the group. The rest of the horses were more sheep than equine, going along with whatever he declared was law. It was revolting. Every ounce of Asa's being bridled against such mindless sheepishness. She could never be that blind. The theft and murder of the latest foal had been the final straw. With Uruk, son of the lead stallion, at her side, the pair went and eradicated the threat. Not only did they kill the wolves that took the foal, they killed other predators as well to send a message: No meat-eater was safe. Rather than be greeted warmly and given thanks for their revenge, both horses were shunned. SHUNNED. Cast out for defending their home and it's young. Asa had laughed right in the stallion's face. This was all a joke. After she and Uruk turned and began to leave, Asa could hear the crashing of brush behind them. What a hypocrite... Uruk's father had sent a party of horses after them to hunt them down. To. Hunt. Them. Down... Just like they had done with the wolves that had stolen the babe. How did that make any sense? Though she was considered the aggressive one, Asa knew that she was no match for several sets of hooves at the same time. The older horse steered their path through rocky terrain, through mud and streams. Anything to try and shield their scent. It was all to no avail. The hunting party was still right on their tails. Asa could feel the white hot fury bubbling within her belly. She wanted to turn and breathe fire at the lot of them. She had done just that, turning to face the band, when Uruk spoke. It seemed as though he, too, was feeling enraged. Feeling slighted. "Go. I'll entertain these ones," the woman's voice ordered, her tones dripping with venom. As Uruk thundered back towards the herd, the sleek, shadowy form of Asa cut through the murky mist, her long, pointed antlers appearing to release tentacles of steam as the mist swirled around them. Three draft stallions faced her, spitting out vile vitriol as though they hadn't known her their entire lives. Asa bared her teeth, one hoof stamping hard upon the earth in warning. A warning that they didn't heed. Just like one unaccustomed to fighting, the males came straight at her. The first was an easy kill, silvered antlers sliding right through flesh and into his throat. It left the man kicking and bleeding out on the knoll. Served him right. "Your death will make the grass grow," the rosette dappled mare growled out. Fiery eyes fixed on the next stallion and she snarled in kind, "Your death will make the wolves sing." As he rushed her, a big, russet colored draft, Asa lashed out, sharpened hooves slamming into one knobby knee with precision. The stallion screamed as he crumpled to the ground, his knee hyper-extending. Asa wasted no time. Rearing up, she brought both front hooves down with all of the power that she held. The man's skull crumbled to dust beneath her might. Two for two. The last stallion hesitated, his blue eyes wide. He danced nervously on legs more slender than the previous two. Asa shook out her dark mane, taking a step towards the man. "Your death will simply make me happy," she informed him, silvered lips pulling back in a grin as he turned and began to run. Fast though he was, Asa was faster. She didn't have all of that draft bulk to cart around. The mare was on his tail, teeth biting into his hindquarters and coming away with blood. The stallion squealed and turned, spinning on hind hooves to face her. Idiot... Asa didn't stop when he did. Instead, she used her momentum to spear the belly of the rearing stallion with her antlers. A tine snapped off from the effort, but it was no matter. It would only make the rack sharper, more deadly. The stallion fell backwards with a thunderous thud, his legs flailing. A putrid smell filled the air. Oh... she'd hit something vital! Asa left him there, groaning and kicking up tufts of grass. His death warrant was signed. She didn't need to stick around to watch him go. The blood flecked mare, hearing screams of horses in the distance, made her way towards them at a quick clip. She arrived in time to see Uruk dispatch his sire with a horn through the eye. As the lightning struck man declared his victory with a triumphant neigh, Asa stalked forward. "Uruk The Strong. Uruk The Conqueror!" Her declaration and naming of the young stallions talents was clear that she was rallying for him. Asa would swear her fealty to Uruk in that moment. Or... as much fealty as he could manage to hold. The gore marked mare shook her antlers at those who appeared as though they'd scraped together enough backbone to speak. Pieces of hide and brain still stuck to those antlers and the sight of this silenced any who might speak out. Asa trumpeted loudly, rearing on hind legs only to slam her front hooves into the knoll with a resounding thud. This was what power looked like. This was what aggression and bloodthirst looked like. Those that had the gall to stay would remember it or they would meet the same end. WC-1046 Total-2149 "Asa"