I made you..and therefor I am your master

“You...” Caskus whispered with a shaky voice, narrowing his eyes. “You...”
Kain bent down and grinned back at him.
“I love that terrified face of yours. I love hearing you beg Caskus Caelestis.” He leaned closer so that he could whisper in Caskus ear without anyone hearing. “It remind me sooo much of your friend...the friend you could not save...the friend you loved soo much. Now what was his name...”
Old images of Nicholas begun swirling around in Caskus's confused head.
“You bastard!” He screamed. His throat so sour, it burned like fire every time he made an attempt to speak.
Kain's eyes flashed red before him and suddenly he was drawn backs hundreds of years in time to the dark forest where he could hear his mothers scream, where he could feel the sharp teeth digging deeper in to his neck. The aching pain and the hooded creature.... the bloodstained grin and the... the eyes, the red eyes.
“I – made – you....” Kain hissed softly and gripped Caskus firmly by the chin. “I made you and therefor, I am you're master, Caskus Caelestis and you are no man of noble blood. You belong to me..”

Kiara , the wisdom keepers

Robert Mirabal - Indian Johnny

Earl Eckles looked at us with sulky paleblue eyes. It was obvious redskins weren't on the top of this sheriff's list of/over favourite people and he just thought we were wasting his time when we called the sheriffdepartment to send someone over. But it wasn't like we'd asked for Earl Eckles. Sheriff Eckles was the typical american middle-aged man, a bit overweight, pale and grumpy. He thought he busted his ass of at work everyday when he really didn't do much but eating. The sheriffsdepartment let him stay on his post because they felt sorry for him, like he wouldn't manage to get another job if they sacked him. He was pretty sad to look at, knowing he shared a dirty cottage with his elderly mother and two straylooking dogs. Today he wore a large brown cowboy hat on top of his small head and his beige shirt tucked into his pants so that his stomach was well notefied. He regularly polished his big blonde moustache with his chubby fingers while flipping through his empty notepad. "Mhm.." he muttered and licked the tip of his ink pen. "So you say there's strange things moving in your woods huh?" He looked up at us for atleast two seconds then his eyes were back on the notepad again. "Ever heard of bears, mr.Darkwater?" We all heard the mocking in his voice and I could feel that the anger in Paul was about to overboil. He looked at Earl with burning eyes. Like a child craving for attention I pulled in his shirt and when he did look at me I stared back at him with narrowed eyes and a sour face. He muttered at me with disapproval, telling me he wouldn't play mister nice-guy today(towards this policeman.) "I'll take care of this sheriff Eckles." A determined voice said a few feet away from us. It was (old) sheriff Billy Joe Norton and with him Pine Ridge policeforce's latest recruit, one of our own, Izaac Johnston son of Alan "Grandfather" Johnston, the tribe shaman. Izaac (Johnston) was a tall and slender man in his late twenties with strong facial features and long black hair - you could kinda compare him to Kocoum of Pocahontas the disney version. He was adored by more than half of the of women in the Pine Ridge reservation. Whenever he was around they just couldn't keep their eyes of, of him. He was both humble and gentle plus he didn't talk much which made him look like the perfect listener, something the ladies seemed to consider as a good thing. "Mister sheriff Norton." An old, shaky voice said from a far distance. It was Floyd Darkwater supported by his granddaughter Maya, who had come to join us. He walked very stiffly with the stick in his left hand and Maya on his right. "Chief Darkwater." Sheriff Norton said. They shoke hands. Chief Darkwater looked at him with old worried grey eyes which were almost fully covered by wrinkles. "It's here again is it not sheriff Norton? The evil spirit." "We're not sure yet chief." "I try to protect my people, but what can an old man do these days." "That's why we're here sir. We'll have our people search through your woods. With your permission off course."
* Later: "What did your grandfather mean with "it's here again"? Don't tell me this has happened before." Kiara said. "It has, many years before we were even thought of. When my parents were young there were killings in the forest, just like now. Killings of young men." "Didn't anyone get caught?" "Nope.. no one cared about us back then, not that they do now either for that matter." He rouled on to his back. "That's why he calls it the evil spirit." he looked at me. "My grandfather has heard real messed up things about what the white man did to our ancestors, but he didn't think no man could be the cause of those young mens deaths. It was the way the bodies looked like. No humanbeing could have done that. He was sure it was an evil spirit who had come to punish us for something we'd done wrong."

El Chico

My name was Ángel Martínez. My mother had insisted on giving me that name before birth, because she said God had sent me to her. But I was no angel, nor had I ever been close to heaven.
They called me Chico, because I was the youngest. I knew my brother would never have wanted me to join them. He tried so hard many times when he was still alive, to get me off the streets, to not end up with them like he had. But a bullet from our enemies killed him, took his life away from all of us with a swoosh. I didn't cry, but they tattoed a tear beneath my left eye. I knew right away I had to get my revenge. I had to kill for my brothers death.
I would remember him everytime I looked into the mirror. They all said I looked like him. I had his light brown eyes, those that smiled with a sad expression. I didn't want to see him whenever I caught my reflection. I wanted to see me, to see Chico - the great warrior.
He had told me many times that Diablo was a bad person, that he really lived up to his name. Diablo had his underlings El Lagrima - with 2Pacs words "Only God Can Judge Me" tattoed across his chest and Asesino - with a scared eye, by his side 24/7. And how intimidated Diablo may have seemed to others, with his tattoed body and harsh face, he had not scared me. I was no cowered and he saw that in me, so he took me in like a big brother should. He nursed me but he also taught me how to be tough, tougher than just any regular street thug. He said, if I followed his examples correctly and didn't back down for anything, I would became the great Chico everyone would fear.
Together the family I now belonged to stole from the poor and killed when they didn't give us what we wanted. We killed with our hand-made guns and machetes. I had once feared death when my brother died but this was almost nothing compared to that. This was another type of death. I decided when their lives would end, always knowing in the back of my mind he wasn't proud of me, not him or God. I knew he had turned his back on me the day I became one of them, the day I let them kick and punch me til I coughed blood.
My given name didn't suit the new me.. but my mother couldn't have known, could she? She should have named me El Feira - the beast.

Ballads defeat (utkast)

Ballads legs gave up underneath him and he slowly fell to the ground. The sand whirled around his body in the small paddoc. He rolled over to the side and layed his head on the ground. He slowly shut his eyes with a dull snort. He heard the voices around him but he didn't know what they said. He'd never understood the two-legged animals who hurt him so badly. He couldn't remember trying to take over their family like they had with his. Images of sons and daughters flashed by in his head. Beautiful, horrible, incomprehensible images pierced through his bleeding heart. Like any other leaderstallion he hated the weakness that clutched him, that forced him to surrender and prevented him from standing on his feet, to be able to fence against the two-legged. He wanted to escape from what ever held him prisoner. Never before had he felt such hatred like he did now. He breathed heavy, the nostrils flashed red. Oh, how he longed for his family. He could give so smuch to see their faces again, like the familyfather he was. He saw the love of his life before him, Novella, the little light brown leadermare who had followed him through snowstorms when everyone else doubted, who had kept the curage when the dark was heavy. He opened his big hazelbrown eyes and neighed a high-pitched neigh in illusion that she would be there with him. Bravely he tried to get up from the ground but once again the legs collapsed underneath him and he crashed back to the sand. The defeat hit him in the face, the frustration screamed in his fragile body. He didn't want to lose what he was, strong and unbeatable. But the loneliness made itself reminded and he hated it.

Buckskin ranch

As my eyes flickered I saw them pass me by one at a time, quick yet graceful, like the legends they would be remembered as. And through centuries of generations they had conquered these lands, father to son, like a king passing down his crown to the prince and the prince would rule the kingdom. But as Freedom Fighter watched his kingdom fall apart he had no son to pass it on to, no next generation to leave behind to roam free along side cousins and enemies. Still he was not frightened and as the king he was he would not let them have him. No one would be allowed to put chains around his neck. He would stand tall til the last breathe.


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