Danger is the only way to begin an account of this stallion; in fact, Death is the name that the others gave this one. He is power and stealth, death itself. Or so it seems. Even his voice is a reflection of this, a cold, growling whisper that sounds like stone crumbling into pools of magma. Or bones being ground into dust.

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Caustic is, however, not without his lighter side. Sometimes when he feels particularly light or cheery he will toy with his victim, growing to be very volatile. His idea of fun simply happens to be striking mortal fear in his prey and watching them attempt to flee.

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Opposing this is the comfort his bond-mates have around him. While he is a warrior and created for battle and death, he revels in it. He does not allow it to control him. There is no better body guard than a stallion that can kill with naught but his gaze, as his warrior's talent of Basilisk suggests. In most cases a glare from his two-toned eyes strikes enough fear in the heart of his enemy that it seizes and causes a near instantaneous death.

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The home he has found reflects him perfectly, and is of such a state that it was not before thought possible to be found within this realm. Few plants may grow in this wasteland, as the volcanic fumes that seep from the cracks in the ground block all light with a poisonous cloud. The stench from the land and the sulfur in the lingering clouds that waft from the cracks have imprinted a stench on him that never washes off. Those that linger too close to him for too long begin to feel nauseous, and many pass out after enough exposure. On few occasions, they haven't woken up again.

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The lack of light and the way that he leaves all plant-life around him wilted makes food nearly sacred in his lands. There is an awkward temperance to the temperature, for while the lack of the suns brings an eternal coolness there is an acrid heat that emanates from the spouting fumes. All of it combines to create a dense mold in place of grass, a sickly, blackened orange substance that layers enough to mimic mats of grass.

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It was here that he settled; it is here that he thrives. A land of shadow, of scarred earth and lingering death.

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He enjoys playing with the danger of the fumes, weaving his way through the sudden, violent bursts as the underground turmoil continues to feed the heavy, lingering clouds of gas. He plays in the most deadly of ways, rather alone or with a victim.

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When he does fight, the victories are often terrible. The aura of stench that lingers from his home also coats the spines around his eyes and along his shoulders with the same poisonous substance he's not only become immune to but begun to prefer. Whenever a wound is inflicted the taint that lingers upon him begins to eat at the exposed flesh. When he feels especially happy he enjoys listening to the screams. Otherwise, his victories are too swift to allow a single sound.

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Caustic is shadowed death, and we are glad to be counted as friends. The only living creatures he fully respects and even holds a slight reverential fear towards are his bonded and the Rogue known as the Lady; they alone have proven themselves. He trusts them to watch his back among the shadows.

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Death is not as simple as it would seem.

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While this particular stallion is well known for his corrosive effect and acerbic tongue, he has a secret; one which is not a secret among his bond-mates. However talented he is at battle and causing death, Caustic holds a certain fascination with life.

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He studies the different reactions, watches for the secret parts of others that they try to deny in themselves. He taught our passive natured Lover to recognize his own hidden, darker aspects. Some would say he warped the otherwise innocent stallion, yet for those that know either of them well it could be said that they both learned from the experience.

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It was our Lover stallion that first helped to reveal Death’s fascination with molding life. In his continuous efforts to become close to any creature he meets, Shiro had wandered into Caustic’s domain; and, so secluding himself for individual attention, had shown a side of himself that neither had previously suspected.

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Throughout the encounter the black, flame-marked stallion kept an active watch on the reactions his ministrations received. He had greeted the initial intrusion as exactly that; intrusion. The rest of the events all stemmed from Shiro standing for a sound thrashing rather than running off when Caustic charged.

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In the end, the Lover found the darker side of his nature to please and romance; his willingness to earn both pleasure and punishment as he strove to prove his worth as someone to be enjoyed.

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And Death found his fascination with the study of life.

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From there it built; rather than being approached in his own home, he began to leave this area, seeking out the broken Tigerlily to reshape her from her madness. And from there, he found another that was broken in a different manner, a discovery made upon the Fields of his birthland; his latest project.

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While he corroded the illusions and self-deceptions that others placed around themselves, he nurtured the hidden truth; truth that was, quite often, dark in nature. For Frolic, it was hidden rage. For his homeworld project, it was a coldness that lurked under all the warm frivolity.

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For himself; it is acknowledging that for all his talents, he will never be part of those that are truly alive. Caustic is the Death-Bringer, the reshaper of worlds, and the dark shadow that waits around the corner. He can never be any other part of society; it isn’t in his nature. Even as he protects, guides, or – in his own way – heals, he remains destruction given solid form.