The mortal realm was pitiful to many that ascended to the horseman's equivalent, or rather a god, but one horseman had come to enjoy the vast expanse. Variety spread across the Earth. Opportunities for all. Despite this, nothing compared to the underworld or the heavens above. There was so much to do and experience. For example, the circumstance of the worlds above and below were always in a singular stasis of equilibrium. It was either happy-go-lucky or hell's nightmare. Not both. Never. And yet... here was Earth. A mixture of both the agony and joyous times. How fascinating was that.

Even so, the one who chose to dwell amongst the mortals had always felt somewhat... one might call it... pity? The wanderers never knew what was coming for them during death and often didn't cherish 'the now.' The present. Even if the the void came for them in their last moments, the darkest moments on this mortal plane always had the opportunity for the brightest of lights to shine through. Balance. Those that thought the afterlife would be their salvation were wrong. Life, at it's finest, was worth every milisecond. Death brought nothing but torture, despite where they lied.

The wanderer of the horseman brought a dark cloud wherever he went. The Pitt, this time, would experience that unforgiving looming feeling today. With large, bulky paws traversing through the desert, the muscularly lion grazed past the border unknowingly. Slitted hues stared out at the horizon as he walked along. A dark jungle graced his vision, peaking his interest and causing his casual gait to pick up it's pace. He could feel something brewing within it's underbrush. Aegon would enjoy this.

His dark silhouette came to a stop at the edge of the jungle as a certain flower caught his eye. A yellow oleander. His head craned and eyes narrowed. Aegon's pointed claw lightly reached over to lightly caress at the petal's surface in interest. The bright flower was known to cause a rash, along with heart attacks or death upon ingestion. What a deceiving deathbringer. The two appeared to have a lot in common, didn't they?

Continuing to mindlessly observe, Aegon paid no attention to the incoming sounds.

Eyes departed away from the flower. His paw pulled back as his head turned to face the stranger before him. A soft gaze acknowledged the stained, claw-ridden front of the being before him. Aegon's maw grew into a smirk. This was the 'land of the blood,' was it? The first arrival and his ragged appearance only reinforced that point. Needless to say, the horseman's interest was peaked. Not enough to sway him though.

Dark paws shifted in their spot and turned to face Jack head on. "The land of the dead is my realm, so thank you for your contribution," he mentioned nonchalantly. Gloating about his position wasn't ever a pleasure, especially when mystical awe or great fear followed in suit. Instead, subtle references. Nevertheless, he kept his head up and continued to listen.

Alabaster flashed in his face as Jack's lips pulled back into a snarl. His threats seemed empty. There may be some truth to their words, but would it effect death himself? No, no. Not whatsoever. He let silence fall. For a moment, he stood unmoving and just stared. A hollow gaze challenged Jack to move forward as he contemplated his answer. The lion's smile simply grew and awaited the Pittian's so-called 'temper', but nothing came. Not yet at least.

Whether or not he was allowed within the borders was not a concern to him. Other things within the world's fucked up concoction were, but for now a place to rest wouldn't hurt, especially in the presence of such a beastly area. "My name is Aegon. I am looking to take shelter somewhere and I think my specialties might benefit the 'land of the blood,'" he remarked. He was not aware of The Pitt's name, so Aegon would stick with Jack's proclaimed nickname.

His head craned to the side. "Nevertheless, it's a pleasure. Your name is?" Hopefully an answer came soon, along with others to approve his request.

graphic gore ★ genderfluid ★ mutated jaguar

“You are the second creature with a mane to join. Hope the heat don’t make you a cranky-ass motherfucker.” Vale’s voice rang from the throat of a descending vulture; as the bird circled lower and lower, pieces of ver rained down upon the duo. Feathers. Talons. And then the beak, which Vale didn’t intend to but nevertheless accidentally attempted to drop between Aegon’s paws.

When the blight landed on four paws, leucistic fur sprouted over the jaguar’s exposed muscle and fat. Newly formed eyelids blinked over three red eyes, but blinked asynchronously, so ve never took vis eyes off the newcomer.

“As for Jack, he does have a temper.” Vale’s mouth curls into a too-wide, lopsided smirk. “I would tell you why, but the poor bastard’s suffered enough because of me, you know? Haha!”

Laughter bubbled out of the hyena’s throat; Vale sounded the opposite of apologetic. After all, taking Jack’s dragon body for a joyride in enemy territory? That was priceless. Vale considered thanking Jack for the opportunity, but ve didn’t want to encourage him and others to try eating ver.

Occasionally, consuming the consumer ranked as the highest fun. Too much, and, well… all things in moderation.

“I am Vale Aston, the ardent—leader—of the Pitt. Though the title Ardent of the Blooded Land is growing on me. Makes me sound like a fucking villain in a B-list fantasy movie.” Scoffing, the bandit rolled the topmost of vis eyes. “Welcome to my bloody lands, Aegon. Let’s hope you enjoy—survive!—your blooding. It’s always therapeutic to spend seven days on your own in the desert, isn’t it? Well, depends on your sanity levels, I suppose.”