The Fall of the Dieties - Hell on Earth

Without her presence, Hoof Prince had missed a great part of its feminine quality. The absence of her lusciously curvy hips, bold eyes, and quick remarks had left a certain void that no other female could fill. The former Queen had been greatly missed and no one could deny this.

She had been making her stately and seductive way through the Isles when a furiously sickening scream caused her to pause in her runway stroll and toss her graceful head casually toward the source of the noise. When it sounded again, she decided that this thing was either very power or very stupid. If powerful, she might find some entertainment in it. If not powerful, than the fool was betraying its presence to all of those bad boys and girls that roamed the Isles.

A scowl made her dainty features ugly for a moment as she looked over her shoulder toward the cause of the sound. Something about it was unfamiliar, yet strangely recognizable.



A spasm let loose in his eye and the dying rays of the sun turned his fiery pelt into the soft, glowing embers of a long-forgotten fire. The remains of his encounter with Rurutia lingered on his lips like the sickening, rotting taste of meat. As the sun dipped lower over the western sea borderer of the Rajput kingdom, the Sinner silently stared as the waves came crashing repeatedly.

Always crashing. Always foaming.

Always gradually wearing away the Earth.



His limp was noticeable as his dappled gray mixed with a new hue for the mud of the Ridges had splashed all over his once clean hide. Despite the pain that should have been creating agony for him, Synyster seemed to bounce in a fashion not completely associated with the injury.

After all, what was done was done. The rest was up to the gods.

Aphrodite’s arrow seemed to have buried itself into his flesh as his parade through the Vistas continued. The reactions of the onlookers did not concern him. He was much too confident in himself to ever even think of the possibility of him not being the next King of the Rajputs. No. He was Synyster. The world needed to be prepared for his booming presence.

Get your cameras ready.

She could have been his twin for they seemed to be sharing a painting. When we say “painting”, we mean the color of her pelt. We do not mean that Synyster and Seven Nation Army are displayed lethargically on a white showroom wall as if the blank expressions of the building could ever fully emphasize the power of the piece. Well, perhaps that is exactly what we are saying for Synyster and Natie COULD be paintings and that plain, unfeeling wall was Hoof Prince and the world could never fully equal the power that was shared between the blending of colors.

Yes, that is exactly what we mean.

Unfortunately, there was a war memorial between the two walls and the paintings were forced to shimmy over to each other during the night, right after the guard flicked off the showroom light, for between them laid the laws and toments of the world. The creeds of both the Valkyries and the Rajputs would always make certain that the two majestic pieces would never be permitted to see each other without risking war.

And when we say war, we mean war.

For now, the lights are out and the colors are mixing, purring sweet romance.

Yes, that is exactly what we mean.



The Earth spoke to him, feeling his pain and his rage. For many hours, it attempted to soothe the frustrated and sense of injustice that kept his eyes glazed over. His former kingdom was spread out before him like a map before a warring general. The place caused his anger to mount.

This was to be the birthplace of his army. He was supposed to be the leader that commanded the throng of Spartans, but every candidate had fallen short. No stallion could perform at the level of Gobardon’s choosing. They had failed. The kingdom had failed. He had failed.

It all came back to him. Since birth, he had been cast aside thanks to the sins done by his father and grandfather and when Ronin forced Flame into Sleep, Gobardon’s life descended into chaos. They blamed him. Oh, how they scorned him. His name became blasphemy and his presence despised. They blamed him for the fall of their empire. They blamed him for the loss of Flame.

They blamed him for the death of Rurutia.

For years, they claimed that Gobardon was Ronin’s own little spy and Gobardon sunk into his own mind. He decided to do what it took to gain enough power to equal or better Flame. He made the choice to pursue the path of an Ancient, to become a God of Opal.

He chose to do what he had to in order to bring back Rurutia.

It backfired, the fragments of his past buried themselves into his face. The lies! The terrible lies! He could not take being lied to and he never would again. He needed to kill! He needed to ravage! He needed a release….

But silence was displayed on the outside and his eyes remained locked onto the soil at his feet. His memories seemed to whisper to him and his eyes remained still. It was terrifying, like a bomb about to explode. The minutes ticked by and still he was motionless. He needed to breathe…he needed to destroy…

Suddenly, his red body rose into the air and his scream echoed through the Silia Mountains and shook the territories of the Rajputs and the Distant Peaks. From the Dark Caverns, they heard the sound of his hooves striking the ground and felt the Earth move as a long and wide crack made its way like a bad vine toward the base of the Rajput volcano. Trees began to fall and the Earth groaned in return. The world seemed to be trying to shake Hoof Prince from its clutches and then the crack hit the volcano…

…lava and smoke billowed from the crack and sparks flew two miles into the sky. The sky lit up to the point that even the Isles saw a moment of day. Molten rock poured from the volcano’s side and covered the north portion of the Rajputs kingdom. Screaming to deafening levels as each herd saw the smoke. The sun was covered, all became dark.

Gobardon had brought Hell to Hoof Prince.