Killer's new and updated reference (with minor changes to his design.)
It's all clearly labelled, so if he's getting any fanart, or I'm ordering art, it'll be easier to follow. It also makes sure that the artist won't make any mistakes.
DO NOT COPY HIS DESIGN! IT'S AGAINST THE LAW TO STEAL ART.
Lines copyright to Horsy1050
Design, character and info copyright to ME.
Old Design:
I had the temptation to give customly drawing Killer a go. It took well over 4 hours, but I guess the outcome was worth while! The background failed -.- I didn't want to spend any more time on the drawing than what was necessary. I also had to be careful not to include a lot of blood (hence the reason why I cut out Killer's bleeding mouth) as the site moderates gore. The character, art and design are ALL copyrighted to me :3
Name: Midnight Killer/Killer/Midnight
Age: 17
Breed: Halloween Hunter
Gender: ♂
Personality: Midnight Killer is best described as not having a heart-he is as cold as ice, destructive, impulsive and unpredictable with a seriously volatile temper to be reckoned with. If anything, Killer is a pure slaughtering machine; a weapon of lethal tendencies trained as a puppet to serve the darkness. His personality is largely attributed to his upbringing in the Assassin Army of which Dementorous and Zephyr ruled.
Killer, known for his strangely unncanny behaviour of violence; greed, bullishness and agressiveness towards others as a youngster most definitely sparked not only outrage of a most intense nature, but also fear, among anybody who witnessed his existence. Commonplace 'titles' used to describe him were, unnatural, evil, sick-in-the-head, psychopathic, dangerous to others and delusional, to name a few. Not that Killer was affected by it; his indifference to what would normally be classified as 'unpleasant treatment' was a valued attribute for one to possess.
Killer hates the world and everything in it. A certain fact that is. Many have tried to understand why this may be the case, but to no avail. Plausible explanations to suffice could be problems arising in early childhood (abuse/mistreatment/neglect), victimisation, exploitation of violence on a frequent basis, lack of compassion on behalf of his parents (neglect) and perhaps deeper routed problems than what meets the eye. Evidence showing through Killer's behavioural patterns may suggest a mental illness which separates Killer's conscious mind from his actions, leading to a complete and total detachment from any feelings or emotions that may be experienced by the average mind. He does not see sense, or feel any remorse for his wrong-doings, let alone see the consequences. Fear and anxiety also do not exist in Killer's world, which may be why, in such extreme situations, he does not falter or show signs of distress. His exterior is cold, foreboding and callous. He appears unmoved and remains indifferent to suffering.
In relation to Killer's parents, the stallion is well acquainted with their lies-to him and the rest of the beings who shared the same ground. Punishment was also not uncommon; either physical or verbal disputes often erupted in the family. Killer's father made his wishes clear that his son was to be separated from others and prevented from living a normal childhood; this is why Killer found being a foal much harder than being a fully-grown stallion, having to follow every excruciating rule set in place was a requirement one had to endure when growing up, as much as he despised it.
Fuelling his ever-growing hatred and ever-growing rage, Killer used to secretly disappear for endless hours at a time without word and go on what is called a 'killing spree'. Liken it to the 'chicken and fox' situation; killing just for the sheer hell of it. Because of his bad temper, Killer is renowned for taking things to the extreme, which leads to unnecessary conflict and tension between others. As we're well aware, he is one of the best known outlaws throughout the realm he now lives in today.
This stallion still holds the customary trait of being a merciless psychopath and is near indestructible in combat. Many a time before he's shown others who's boss and WHY he's boss. Killer is often referred to as the 'King' in his volatile herd of Sudden Death.
History: Midnight Killer was just a foal when the attack took place; the chaos around him shrouded his young mind in blackness and all that was left was anger, yearn for justice and revenge.
Midnight was a young foal. He had no idea where he belonged, nor where he would end up. It was towards mid-evening, the sickly orange tint of the sky acting as a signal for evening. Yet, despite the late hour, he still hadn't sighted his parents since they ventured out with the hunters for their meal; and this, to an extent, gave the foal quite a sense of dread, which wasnt uncommon, be it said. Snorting in a low tone, Midnight skulked silently out of the forest; stopping short as he observed the peaceful village down below him. He was situated upon a large knoll of a hill, standing still and full of unrest as the chill in the air grazed his skin. His mind was not tranquil, neither was it unsettled, but there was a dull hum of foreign emotion bubbling away under the cover of a serene atmosphere. Midnight was often distracted, little trains of thought coming and going, forming no real link to anyone or anything. It left a tangled web of consciousness for him to get lost in. However, he did not fall victim to its calling... Not this time. Instead, he concentrated, tried to think about the future, tried to think about when he would grow older and not have to suffer his father's wraith, or deal with the neglect of his mother. Maybe he would be one of the luckier youngsters to get chased out of the herd, so then, at least, he could set his sights upon forming his own herd, gaining his sought-after independence and fulfilling his goals. He was indeed sick of being cooped up for hours-on-end away from the civilisation that no doubt didn't notice his presence anyway. No, Midnight wasn't vexed of the fact that his lack of involvement in village life made no difference; he was simply perplexed at why he couldn't just do what an outcast does-remain unseen in the background whilst living a secret life of mischief without anyone knowing or sharing experiences with. Anyway, it was stifling and degrading not being allowed to roam free and to be left to your own devices without being scolded every second.
...
A loud noise sounded behind him as the strong wind tossed bits of bracken across the ground like unwanted toys. Admittedly, this starled the young colt and forced him to drop down to the ground as an instinct of protection. At first, Midnight assumed that his parents had returned from their hunt and caught him, which was a highly-likely thing to happen bearing in mind that he wasn't allowed out of the den at this time of night-when he was always causing trouble and getting into fights. Midnight's reputation for causing injuries was well known among everybody, and most parents of this village decided to keep their children close when he happened to venture by. Things were often said about the young colt resembling hurtful statements like he wasn't normal or that he wasn't right in the head. It was as that point that Midnight frowned to himself. He didn't really notice his pushy or bullish ways towards others-in his mind, he was only having a bit of fun-lightening the mood, right? Surely he wasn't some demented psychopath in the early stages? Well, whatever it was, Midnight didn't exactly care; he wasn't going to change for anybody.
...
"Midnighttttt" a queer, demented sounding voice hissed-breaking him out of his reverie. The young colt froze uncertainly and sucked in a breath, holding it in so much that he almost passed out. After a few long seconds, Midnight turned round slowly to meet the source of the voice, Midnight lifted his head and stood taller once he had picked himself up off the ground, locking eyes with the figure, somewhat larger than him, and all the more darker-mannered.
"Who are you?" he questioned with narrowing eyes, standing his ground, though stepping back a little to make sure he could assess the figure in more detail and from a safer distance, not sure what to make of the situation. As he weighed up his options, the figure slipped out of the shadows, lowering the hood of its cloak so that Midnight could see for himself.
"My real name is not of concern to you-however, for identification purposes, call me Zephyr." The strange figure stepped forwards slowly again, so that he was closer to Midnight. Intimidation was one of the best ways to break into somebody's mind, but this time wasn't as easy as previous encounters. Normally the victim would give in straight away, offer anything just to have their life spared, but no... Not with this one. THIS one oozed a certain dark quality which was hard to miss. He felt it... The realisation caused Zephyr to falter just a tad, but nonetheless maintained his composure. His eyes never left the young colt, who's steely glare almost transcended THROUGH physical boundaries and burned his brain with their blood-red glow.
Midnight curled his lips back to reveal a row of sharp fangs, which extended sharply when Zephyr came a little too close for comfort- as a warning not to cross the line. "Step back, or I'll kill you."
Zephyr stopped in his tracks, raising an eyebrow in disbelief at such violence in one so young. "Come now, don't you think you're getting a little TOO ahead of yourself? You have never met me before, and I have made the kinder decision to play nice. Do not make a fool of yourself by challenging me."
Offense made Killer's blood boil, and by the last remark of this ignorant imbecile, he found it hard to contain his anger. "Give me one good reason why I should even spare the thought of ripping your body to pieces..." Midnight snarled, pawing the ground as he eyed up the tall stallion, narrowing his eyes again and licking his lips as he deliberated. "I sense something very... wrong... with your presence here... Your negative energy is bringing out the darkness in me which is never a good sign."
Zephyr forced a smile as he flicked his tail. He wasn't going to let this colt unnerve him with empty threats. Instead, he held his ground exactly where he was, and then began circling him with curiosity."Ah, the sensitive type, I suppose." He played with his words, out of sheer enjoyment. "Didn't it ever cross your mind that sensitivity is a weakness?" Zephyr continued pushing Midnight closer and closer to rage, but in response, he said nothing. He had quickly learned from his mistake, and would not repeat the same steps again. Instead, he remained indifferent, shutting out every single emotion that existed in his body until he was almost lifeless, making Zephyr's efforts of scrutinising the young, fiery colt quite a challenge-very reserved and cold, but not an impossible nut to crack. Zephyr had come across many victims who behaved in the same way. Stranger danger. Exactly what every horse's instincts had flourished from ever since their evolution millions of years beforehand.
Still, Midnight didn't answer to the question posed... Instead he moved his gaze, keeping it solidly on the ground. It was the best way.
After a what seemed an age, he finally answered, but not to the question."Baiting me doesn't work." Midnight said slowly. "However, I'm interested to find out how you know me."
Zephyr suddenly cackled. A cruel, sarcastic cackle. "My dear Midnight... I came to know of you through your parents... They didn't hold back for long, you see..."
"My parents? What about them? What do you mean? WHO are you?!" Long minutes of awkward silence followed through as Midnight fumbled with the stallions' words. Zephyr waited ever-so-patiently as the colt began panicking. He could no longer remain indifferent, not with something so intensely personal, not with something that directly affected him. Noticably, Zephyr continued to keep quiet, but in a split second, the bigger stallion lurched forwards and pinned down the colt, crushing him with his immense weight and smothering him. "I'm afraid there is no time for questions, now. I work quickly and efficiently. I only have a limited source of patience before it gets the better of me, and I have a duty to make sure I'm on schedule." He cackled darkly again as he scanned the horizon, eyes lighting up with a dark amusement. "You will soon be with them..."
The stallion roped Midnight up, gagging the foal with filthy rags, listening to him choke as he struggled against the restraint. "I hope you enjoy the show." He sneered maliciously. "If you can withstand what your about to witness, I'll make it a personal obligation to put you out of your misery, unless their is a change of plan." Midnight tried to fight, tried to ask more questions, but his speech was blocked by the rags crammed in his mouth,he could hardly breathe. 'What does Zephyr mean? What's happened to my parents?' the voices in his head became frantic, but he couldn't do anything except face his next ordeal. He writhed and writhed, but exhausted himself out, finding that he was no more useful than a fish in a glass bowl; defenceless. Once Midnight had stopped resisting the ropes, his capture relaxed, sighing in satisfaction. He noticed that his huge army of Assassins had arrived at their designated area and yanked Midnight's head harshly in the direction of where his force were approaching the village, making him watch what was about to happen. Midnight's eyes widened, and his muffled screams and attempted kicks did nothing to stop the impending doom.
"ATTACK!"
And as if in a movie, fast-forwarded almost, the actions that had been preserved for this very moment flooded out, like liquid in a glass that had been knocked over.
Robotically, the army of Assassin's sprang into action, raising their weapons to the sky and unleashing hell upon the significantly weaker village. The explosions from the fire-bombs rang out for miles and the extent of impact caused shock waves to uplift trees and blow away any form of defence, whether they were high stone walls, booby-traps, foot-soldiers gathering to fight, or normal citizens simply rising to the challenge of the more superior threat.
Before Midnight could do anything, his world began to be engulfed in flames, shrouded in a deathly inferno. Screams of despair and panic filled his ears. All he could do was witness the destruction and chaos from down below. He could feel the heat from the flames prick the surface of his skin like red-hot pokers. Shortly, it felt like his whole body was burning alive. The flames ravaged the village and climbed high into the black night, unleashing their fury towards anybody that dared stand up to them. They were relentless; a force that was so strong, nobody could rebel. Nobody could do anything except watch as their world was taken away from them in a blink of an eye.
Zephyr's eyes were black, bottomless holes, mimicking the flames of destruction. His lips played a slight smile and his expression lit up like the flames, as yet another victory could be seen on the horizon. For all Midnight knew, his parents could be down there, fighting brutally with nothing but the will to live... Maybe they were already targeted... Maybe they were already dead.
Of course, living in a realm where danger was eminent, thousands of gutsy citizens gathered together in large groups, trying to defend their homeland from the unwanted company, they were quick-thinking and were able to amend a plan, but the Assassins were smart enough to dodge everything they had enforced. The flames by now had spread across the whole of the village, wreaking havoc. Some living souls were brought down by the flames, crumbling in defeat as their bodies burned alive. Their blood-curdling screams echoed in the colts' ears. Chilling... Never ending, like a record. Zephyr continued holding Midnight, still forcing him to watch his world burning down- practically incinerated, obliterated and... Gone... It seemed that perhaps Midnight's future existed no more. It wouldn't be a surprise if Zephyr decided to kill him after this ordeal, like he promised.
...
Maybe no more than a couple of hours passed. Zephyr had eventually ordered the Assassins to cease their destruction. He frog-marched Midnight down to meet his fate, presented as nothing more than a trophy of their most recent achievement.
From up upon the hill, the damage didn't look nearly as bad as what it did opposed to being on the ground amidst it. Nearly everything he knew was completely gone, and all that was left was debris, dead bodies and flames eating up the last of the buildings.
"Meet our leader, Dementorus." Zephyr introduced Midnight coldly to the leader of the Assassins, supposedly the one who was in-charge of the whole idea. Perhaps he was the one who controlled Zephyr. The thought sparked anger in Midnight, as part of his feistyness returned. What do they think he was going to do? After all, Midnight didn't feel emotional or physical pain. Not anymore, anyway...
He stared emptily at both of these imbeciles, his four hooves routed to the ground.
Zephyr ripped off the gag and pushed the foal forwards, tripping him up as he did so to make him fall to his knees. Dementorous, the leader, raised his head, praising Zephyr for his good work. "You have done well..." He spoke to Zephyr as he accepted his praise, like a lapdog begging for a treat. Midnight snorted in disgust. A deep, warped voice of a true demonic, troubled soul continued; "Take him back to the fortress-his future may be discussed there."
Dementorous ordered Zephyr to take Midnight back to the fortress. Midnight couldn't even find the words to speak. All he managed to do was gape inwardly, devastated, as he stole away the last few glances of his destroyed homeland. There wasn't even any point worrying about getting scolded by his parents now. they were probably- "They are already dead, Midnight." Zephyr smirked, reading the young foals' mind and finishing off the sentence for him. "I didn't tell you beforehand as it would ruin the fun, but atleast you are lucky enough to live, given the circumstances."
...
Ever since then, the young colt had grown among the younger Assassins to become the worst nightmare in HISTORY. Midnight became corrupt, full of blood-lust. He couldn't see any reason, he couldn't see any sort of barrier. As far as he was concerned, the world was his for the taking and he would slaughter, destroy or steal anything/anyone in order to get it. Dementorous gave him a new name in order to match his forced and shattered personality: 'Midnight Killer'. He was officially a death-machine, a puppet, nevertheless. A puppet at his own disposal should he wish to use him.
Brutal training was set in place for Killer when he reached the coming-of-age, to test him and his power. He proved them all right when he completed his destiny. As a way to honour his last sessions of training, Dementorous and Zephyr had amended an annual competition specifically for the Assassin Graduates. The task was to fight your opponent bare-hand, no weapons, no powers, until you succeeded in killing them. The prize was to win freedom. Freedom from constant surveillance and confinement of being a prisoner in the Assassin army. It was a ticket of escape.
Luckily, with Killer's expertise and will to win, he had completely mutilated and slaughtered his opponent, and received his prize. When he had been discharged, Killer soon amended a herd, deciding to name it 'Sudden Death' to respect all those who suffered, those who were killed tragically in his homeland, resulting in a 'sudden death' and also to avenge his parents.
Killer moved well away from this realm, and started up life elsewhere, where his herd grew and thrived.
Current Living Status: The Sudden Death Herd
Mood: Broken, confused, hateful, depressed
Other: His biggest rival is Lucifer (the Cloaked Figure)
NO COPYING ANYTHING, KILLER IS AN ORIGINAL DESIGN © TO ME AND ONLY ME! SO IS THE STORY AND EVERYTHING ELSE!
Age: 17
Breed: Halloween Hunter
Gender: ♂
Personality: Midnight Killer is best described as not having a heart-he is as cold as ice, destructive, impulsive and unpredictable with a seriously volatile temper to be reckoned with. If anything, Killer is a pure slaughtering machine; a weapon of lethal tendencies trained as a puppet to serve the darkness. His personality is largely attributed to his upbringing in the Assassin Army of which Dementorous and Zephyr ruled.
Killer, known for his strangely unncanny behaviour of violence; greed, bullishness and agressiveness towards others as a youngster most definitely sparked not only outrage of a most intense nature, but also fear, among anybody who witnessed his existence. Commonplace 'titles' used to describe him were, unnatural, evil, sick-in-the-head, psychopathic, dangerous to others and delusional, to name a few. Not that Killer was affected by it; his indifference to what would normally be classified as 'unpleasant treatment' was a valued attribute for one to possess.
Killer hates the world and everything in it. A certain fact that is. Many have tried to understand why this may be the case, but to no avail. Plausible explanations to suffice could be problems arising in early childhood (abuse/mistreatment/neglect), victimisation, exploitation of violence on a frequent basis, lack of compassion on behalf of his parents (neglect) and perhaps deeper routed problems than what meets the eye. Evidence showing through Killer's behavioural patterns may suggest a mental illness which separates Killer's conscious mind from his actions, leading to a complete and total detachment from any feelings or emotions that may be experienced by the average mind. He does not see sense, or feel any remorse for his wrong-doings, let alone see the consequences. Fear and anxiety also do not exist in Killer's world, which may be why, in such extreme situations, he does not falter or show signs of distress. His exterior is cold, foreboding and callous. He appears unmoved and remains indifferent to suffering.
In relation to Killer's parents, the stallion is well acquainted with their lies-to him and the rest of the beings who shared the same ground. Punishment was also not uncommon; either physical or verbal disputes often erupted in the family. Killer's father made his wishes clear that his son was to be separated from others and prevented from living a normal childhood; this is why Killer found being a foal much harder than being a fully-grown stallion, having to follow every excruciating rule set in place was a requirement one had to endure when growing up, as much as he despised it.
Fuelling his ever-growing hatred and ever-growing rage, Killer used to secretly disappear for endless hours at a time without word and go on what is called a 'killing spree'. Liken it to the 'chicken and fox' situation; killing just for the sheer hell of it. Because of his bad temper, Killer is renowned for taking things to the extreme, which leads to unnecessary conflict and tension between others. As we're well aware, he is one of the best known outlaws throughout the realm he now lives in today.
This stallion still holds the customary trait of being a merciless psychopath and is near indestructible in combat. Many a time before he's shown others who's boss and WHY he's boss. Killer is often referred to as the 'King' in his volatile herd of Sudden Death.
History: Midnight Killer was just a foal when the attack took place; the chaos around him shrouded his young mind in blackness and all that was left was anger, yearn for justice and revenge.
Midnight was a young foal. He had no idea where he belonged, nor where he would end up. It was towards mid-evening, the sickly orange tint of the sky acting as a signal for evening. Yet, despite the late hour, he still hadn't sighted his parents since they ventured out with the hunters for their meal; and this, to an extent, gave the foal quite a sense of dread, which wasnt uncommon, be it said. Snorting in a low tone, Midnight skulked silently out of the forest; stopping short as he observed the peaceful village down below him. He was situated upon a large knoll of a hill, standing still and full of unrest as the chill in the air grazed his skin. His mind was not tranquil, neither was it unsettled, but there was a dull hum of foreign emotion bubbling away under the cover of a serene atmosphere. Midnight was often distracted, little trains of thought coming and going, forming no real link to anyone or anything. It left a tangled web of consciousness for him to get lost in. However, he did not fall victim to its calling... Not this time. Instead, he concentrated, tried to think about the future, tried to think about when he would grow older and not have to suffer his father's wraith, or deal with the neglect of his mother. Maybe he would be one of the luckier youngsters to get chased out of the herd, so then, at least, he could set his sights upon forming his own herd, gaining his sought-after independence and fulfilling his goals. He was indeed sick of being cooped up for hours-on-end away from the civilisation that no doubt didn't notice his presence anyway. No, Midnight wasn't vexed of the fact that his lack of involvement in village life made no difference; he was simply perplexed at why he couldn't just do what an outcast does-remain unseen in the background whilst living a secret life of mischief without anyone knowing or sharing experiences with. Anyway, it was stifling and degrading not being allowed to roam free and to be left to your own devices without being scolded every second.
...
A loud noise sounded behind him as the strong wind tossed bits of bracken across the ground like unwanted toys. Admittedly, this starled the young colt and forced him to drop down to the ground as an instinct of protection. At first, Midnight assumed that his parents had returned from their hunt and caught him, which was a highly-likely thing to happen bearing in mind that he wasn't allowed out of the den at this time of night-when he was always causing trouble and getting into fights. Midnight's reputation for causing injuries was well known among everybody, and most parents of this village decided to keep their children close when he happened to venture by. Things were often said about the young colt resembling hurtful statements like he wasn't normal or that he wasn't right in the head. It was as that point that Midnight frowned to himself. He didn't really notice his pushy or bullish ways towards others-in his mind, he was only having a bit of fun-lightening the mood, right? Surely he wasn't some demented psychopath in the early stages? Well, whatever it was, Midnight didn't exactly care; he wasn't going to change for anybody.
...
"Midnighttttt" a queer, demented sounding voice hissed-breaking him out of his reverie. The young colt froze uncertainly and sucked in a breath, holding it in so much that he almost passed out. After a few long seconds, Midnight turned round slowly to meet the source of the voice, Midnight lifted his head and stood taller once he had picked himself up off the ground, locking eyes with the figure, somewhat larger than him, and all the more darker-mannered.
"Who are you?" he questioned with narrowing eyes, standing his ground, though stepping back a little to make sure he could assess the figure in more detail and from a safer distance, not sure what to make of the situation. As he weighed up his options, the figure slipped out of the shadows, lowering the hood of its cloak so that Midnight could see for himself.
"My real name is not of concern to you-however, for identification purposes, call me Zephyr." The strange figure stepped forwards slowly again, so that he was closer to Midnight. Intimidation was one of the best ways to break into somebody's mind, but this time wasn't as easy as previous encounters. Normally the victim would give in straight away, offer anything just to have their life spared, but no... Not with this one. THIS one oozed a certain dark quality which was hard to miss. He felt it... The realisation caused Zephyr to falter just a tad, but nonetheless maintained his composure. His eyes never left the young colt, who's steely glare almost transcended THROUGH physical boundaries and burned his brain with their blood-red glow.
Midnight curled his lips back to reveal a row of sharp fangs, which extended sharply when Zephyr came a little too close for comfort- as a warning not to cross the line. "Step back, or I'll kill you."
Zephyr stopped in his tracks, raising an eyebrow in disbelief at such violence in one so young. "Come now, don't you think you're getting a little TOO ahead of yourself? You have never met me before, and I have made the kinder decision to play nice. Do not make a fool of yourself by challenging me."
Offense made Killer's blood boil, and by the last remark of this ignorant imbecile, he found it hard to contain his anger. "Give me one good reason why I should even spare the thought of ripping your body to pieces..." Midnight snarled, pawing the ground as he eyed up the tall stallion, narrowing his eyes again and licking his lips as he deliberated. "I sense something very... wrong... with your presence here... Your negative energy is bringing out the darkness in me which is never a good sign."
Zephyr forced a smile as he flicked his tail. He wasn't going to let this colt unnerve him with empty threats. Instead, he held his ground exactly where he was, and then began circling him with curiosity."Ah, the sensitive type, I suppose." He played with his words, out of sheer enjoyment. "Didn't it ever cross your mind that sensitivity is a weakness?" Zephyr continued pushing Midnight closer and closer to rage, but in response, he said nothing. He had quickly learned from his mistake, and would not repeat the same steps again. Instead, he remained indifferent, shutting out every single emotion that existed in his body until he was almost lifeless, making Zephyr's efforts of scrutinising the young, fiery colt quite a challenge-very reserved and cold, but not an impossible nut to crack. Zephyr had come across many victims who behaved in the same way. Stranger danger. Exactly what every horse's instincts had flourished from ever since their evolution millions of years beforehand.
Still, Midnight didn't answer to the question posed... Instead he moved his gaze, keeping it solidly on the ground. It was the best way.
After a what seemed an age, he finally answered, but not to the question."Baiting me doesn't work." Midnight said slowly. "However, I'm interested to find out how you know me."
Zephyr suddenly cackled. A cruel, sarcastic cackle. "My dear Midnight... I came to know of you through your parents... They didn't hold back for long, you see..."
"My parents? What about them? What do you mean? WHO are you?!" Long minutes of awkward silence followed through as Midnight fumbled with the stallions' words. Zephyr waited ever-so-patiently as the colt began panicking. He could no longer remain indifferent, not with something so intensely personal, not with something that directly affected him. Noticably, Zephyr continued to keep quiet, but in a split second, the bigger stallion lurched forwards and pinned down the colt, crushing him with his immense weight and smothering him. "I'm afraid there is no time for questions, now. I work quickly and efficiently. I only have a limited source of patience before it gets the better of me, and I have a duty to make sure I'm on schedule." He cackled darkly again as he scanned the horizon, eyes lighting up with a dark amusement. "You will soon be with them..."
The stallion roped Midnight up, gagging the foal with filthy rags, listening to him choke as he struggled against the restraint. "I hope you enjoy the show." He sneered maliciously. "If you can withstand what your about to witness, I'll make it a personal obligation to put you out of your misery, unless their is a change of plan." Midnight tried to fight, tried to ask more questions, but his speech was blocked by the rags crammed in his mouth,he could hardly breathe. 'What does Zephyr mean? What's happened to my parents?' the voices in his head became frantic, but he couldn't do anything except face his next ordeal. He writhed and writhed, but exhausted himself out, finding that he was no more useful than a fish in a glass bowl; defenceless. Once Midnight had stopped resisting the ropes, his capture relaxed, sighing in satisfaction. He noticed that his huge army of Assassins had arrived at their designated area and yanked Midnight's head harshly in the direction of where his force were approaching the village, making him watch what was about to happen. Midnight's eyes widened, and his muffled screams and attempted kicks did nothing to stop the impending doom.
"ATTACK!"
And as if in a movie, fast-forwarded almost, the actions that had been preserved for this very moment flooded out, like liquid in a glass that had been knocked over.
Robotically, the army of Assassin's sprang into action, raising their weapons to the sky and unleashing hell upon the significantly weaker village. The explosions from the fire-bombs rang out for miles and the extent of impact caused shock waves to uplift trees and blow away any form of defence, whether they were high stone walls, booby-traps, foot-soldiers gathering to fight, or normal citizens simply rising to the challenge of the more superior threat.
Before Midnight could do anything, his world began to be engulfed in flames, shrouded in a deathly inferno. Screams of despair and panic filled his ears. All he could do was witness the destruction and chaos from down below. He could feel the heat from the flames prick the surface of his skin like red-hot pokers. Shortly, it felt like his whole body was burning alive. The flames ravaged the village and climbed high into the black night, unleashing their fury towards anybody that dared stand up to them. They were relentless; a force that was so strong, nobody could rebel. Nobody could do anything except watch as their world was taken away from them in a blink of an eye.
Zephyr's eyes were black, bottomless holes, mimicking the flames of destruction. His lips played a slight smile and his expression lit up like the flames, as yet another victory could be seen on the horizon. For all Midnight knew, his parents could be down there, fighting brutally with nothing but the will to live... Maybe they were already targeted... Maybe they were already dead.
Of course, living in a realm where danger was eminent, thousands of gutsy citizens gathered together in large groups, trying to defend their homeland from the unwanted company, they were quick-thinking and were able to amend a plan, but the Assassins were smart enough to dodge everything they had enforced. The flames by now had spread across the whole of the village, wreaking havoc. Some living souls were brought down by the flames, crumbling in defeat as their bodies burned alive. Their blood-curdling screams echoed in the colts' ears. Chilling... Never ending, like a record. Zephyr continued holding Midnight, still forcing him to watch his world burning down- practically incinerated, obliterated and... Gone... It seemed that perhaps Midnight's future existed no more. It wouldn't be a surprise if Zephyr decided to kill him after this ordeal, like he promised.
...
Maybe no more than a couple of hours passed. Zephyr had eventually ordered the Assassins to cease their destruction. He frog-marched Midnight down to meet his fate, presented as nothing more than a trophy of their most recent achievement.
From up upon the hill, the damage didn't look nearly as bad as what it did opposed to being on the ground amidst it. Nearly everything he knew was completely gone, and all that was left was debris, dead bodies and flames eating up the last of the buildings.
"Meet our leader, Dementorus." Zephyr introduced Midnight coldly to the leader of the Assassins, supposedly the one who was in-charge of the whole idea. Perhaps he was the one who controlled Zephyr. The thought sparked anger in Midnight, as part of his feistyness returned. What do they think he was going to do? After all, Midnight didn't feel emotional or physical pain. Not anymore, anyway...
He stared emptily at both of these imbeciles, his four hooves routed to the ground.
Zephyr ripped off the gag and pushed the foal forwards, tripping him up as he did so to make him fall to his knees. Dementorous, the leader, raised his head, praising Zephyr for his good work. "You have done well..." He spoke to Zephyr as he accepted his praise, like a lapdog begging for a treat. Midnight snorted in disgust. A deep, warped voice of a true demonic, troubled soul continued; "Take him back to the fortress-his future may be discussed there."
Dementorous ordered Zephyr to take Midnight back to the fortress. Midnight couldn't even find the words to speak. All he managed to do was gape inwardly, devastated, as he stole away the last few glances of his destroyed homeland. There wasn't even any point worrying about getting scolded by his parents now. they were probably- "They are already dead, Midnight." Zephyr smirked, reading the young foals' mind and finishing off the sentence for him. "I didn't tell you beforehand as it would ruin the fun, but atleast you are lucky enough to live, given the circumstances."
...
Ever since then, the young colt had grown among the younger Assassins to become the worst nightmare in HISTORY. Midnight became corrupt, full of blood-lust. He couldn't see any reason, he couldn't see any sort of barrier. As far as he was concerned, the world was his for the taking and he would slaughter, destroy or steal anything/anyone in order to get it. Dementorous gave him a new name in order to match his forced and shattered personality: 'Midnight Killer'. He was officially a death-machine, a puppet, nevertheless. A puppet at his own disposal should he wish to use him.
Brutal training was set in place for Killer when he reached the coming-of-age, to test him and his power. He proved them all right when he completed his destiny. As a way to honour his last sessions of training, Dementorous and Zephyr had amended an annual competition specifically for the Assassin Graduates. The task was to fight your opponent bare-hand, no weapons, no powers, until you succeeded in killing them. The prize was to win freedom. Freedom from constant surveillance and confinement of being a prisoner in the Assassin army. It was a ticket of escape.
Luckily, with Killer's expertise and will to win, he had completely mutilated and slaughtered his opponent, and received his prize. When he had been discharged, Killer soon amended a herd, deciding to name it 'Sudden Death' to respect all those who suffered, those who were killed tragically in his homeland, resulting in a 'sudden death' and also to avenge his parents.
Killer moved well away from this realm, and started up life elsewhere, where his herd grew and thrived.
Current Living Status: The Sudden Death Herd
Mood: Broken, confused, hateful, depressed
Other: His biggest rival is Lucifer (the Cloaked Figure)
NO COPYING ANYTHING, KILLER IS AN ORIGINAL DESIGN © TO ME AND ONLY ME! SO IS THE STORY AND EVERYTHING ELSE!
.:AWESOME FEATURES OF KILLER:.
(The videos above are courtesy of my awesome friend in real life who managed to MOD Skyrim and bring Killer to life-THANKYOU!)