sooo, ya’ll choose to kill stray foals, key word: stray. my definition of ‘stray foal’ is a foal that has wandered too far from their parents. this can range from rejected babies to angsty juviniles running away from their family to prove a point. let the culling begin
but before that, i wanna tell you about the herd’s setting and tiger’s connection to the smarty.
the herd(30 grown fluffys, 15 sub-adults, and not counting foals) is a family heirloom, and the smarty is the fidth generation to inherit it. how they pass it down is through a test of strength by all of the smarty’s children. as a result, the smarty of the herd is RIPPED, but there’s a reson why it’s inherited like this. the herd lives in an orchard of various fruits, when one fruit is off season another goes on season, and is well known by feral born fluffies. many rival herds try to take over this patch of heaven, only for the smarty and toughies to be wiped out. in this herd, being a herd protecting toughie is a sought after role, considering how often they fight, but there’s a smarty’s inner circle of toughies: the smart toughie, the popular toughie, and the strong toughie. the smarty also is still an asshole, but has boundaries(like enfing babies, killing normal babies and stealing special friends) but other than all of that, it’s a steriotypical herd.
you had given soul his orders. he is saddened by this, he doesn’t want to hurt anyone. but he does understand your situation, as you’ve explained to him the source of your magic: souls. you could, theoretically speaking, use fragments of your own soul and let them regenerate, but that takes time, and only for absolute emergencies. no, you needed to reap fluffies.
soul walks out from under the bush nest he’s in and looks around. immediately you see three adult fluffies, two unicorns watching over their newborns and a large erthie that looks like a toughie. soul gets closer, and you see a rejected peeper of muck brown. you snatch control, spring forward like a spring, and open up you mouth. you devour the foal in one gulp as you mouth just kept opening until it bit down like a clam shutting. you where about to eat the rest of the family when soul stops you.
no, i’m only going to let you eat rejected babies
you’re no fun
anyhow, you have successfully reaped a soul. but one soul isn’t enough, you need 20 more. a rancid stench assaults your nose, and soul complains about it.
follow it
NO
there’s souls that way, i guarantee if we kill everything there, i won’t have to order you
I SAID NO. THAT SMELLS NASTY
I SAID FOLLOW IT that yell of an order probably gave soul a headache.
OW! ok ok! he finally surrenders. soul walks, sniffing the air, cringing, and following that stench. by the time you were close, soul didn’t know if he was going to vomit, but you’ve smelled worse from your peers and underlings (im looking at you Jerry). soul breaches one final bush and looks around. there is no grass, only mud and shit everywhere. this must be the latrine, because the only fluffies here are shit colored. there are foals, but they have the same coloration with a few exceptions (who were dead). soul was too busy keeping his breakfast his breakfast, so you took your opportunity while your limiting factor was distracted. you stop time and warp danced around, snatching up young who decided to sleep too far from their parents. but then you find something rare. an alicorn weanling, your underlings are forbidden to consume alicorn souls due to how tasty they are. you let time flow normally. a maw opens from your left cheek, and 3 fleshy tentacles reach out and grab the weanling. they quickly suspend it into the air, one tentacle wrapping around it’s head, snout, and forelegs, to preventing it from making a peep, the second wraps around it’s hind legs and tail, and the third wips it’s stomach with a blade, emptying out all it’s crap. the blade breaches it’s skin, and some intestines hang out. the third and second tenticle retract, while the first drags the internally shrieking weanling into the bottomless pit. once you close the hatch, you warp back into your previous spot and see that you left a blood smear.
you taist the soul you’ve consumed, and euphoria washes over you. the perfect amount of self-loathing, fear, saddness, and the fact that it was an alicorn only doubles the taste’s goodness. you warp back to the nest, having a fair amount of wiggle room in your magical reserves, and soul kicks you off the wheel.
that’s enough. im going to have a sickness
: )
but then your father walks in on you, asking “souw? hewd weadah wan see 'ou. wan see if 'ou can make babbah nu hab sickies nu more.” you can’t heal. you never had the abillity to. that’s for medic imps, not for an arch demon.
soo what do you do? on one hand, you have the possability for Icar to reap free souls (he doesn’t need to consume live fluffies, he just needs to be near the event of a fluffy’s death), but on the other, a big responsibility is put on your shoulders.
- shoud you stay (refuse),
- or shoud you go (accept)?
- or just bend over forwards, and die.