Lords of Creation in the Playground
Four hooves lay at the base of the four slender legs. From that alone, it might appear as a mere colt. The body of a horse, slim and trim, gleams atop those legs, for in their native, original state, it had a coat of white, pure white, so much so that the light seems to shatter into prisms where it strikes. A healthy horse’s chest rises up to a slim neck, bedecked with mane, and an equine face. The first thing that usually seems odd about the whole thing, apart from the color, is the single horn. A twisted, gnarling, spiraling horn rises from the middle of the creature’s forehead, between the eyes. Then one might notice the eyes. No horse ever possessed ocular means such as this creature, with such intelligence or uncaring hauteur. No, this is not a creature of physical strength, to cleave enemies asunder with axe or sword. It works far more dangerously.
It is said by some that knowledge is the greatest weapon. Such as this might be one embodiment of that saying. That single horn is focus for the wrath of the fey writ on those who would come against them, for this is a creature of magic, of intelligence, and yes, of hate. If seen in the height of battle — and lo, that it might never be so, for such would almost certain spell doom for others — the coat would be stained red or green or blue with the fluids of enemies, the horn aglow with power as spells coursed from it, and in that broad, unblemished white chest, a maw of ravening teeth might consume the power of the slain, all the while singing the doomsong to the accompaniment of the drumming of its hooves shredding the bodies of the fallen. Beware ye who see this creature, for it is Unicorn, mind and magic of the fey.