M A X E N C E IN THE CLEARING STANDS A BOXER, AND A FIGHTER BY HIS TRADE
AND HE CARRIES THE REMINDER OF EVERY GLOVE THAT LAID HIM DOWN AND CUT HIM TIL' HE CRIED OUT Wolves howled lower than the wind that whistled into the commanders ears and from his place upon the frigid mountaintop there was little to be seen among the falling sleet and whispering white clouds that covering most of his horizon, save for the drenched mountain forest below. In the Arma's the king of Day stood surveying a land of Night; a rival land, his motives for such a plunge still questionable. What had driven him into the clutches of the enemy? Was is sympathy for the emotional king of Denocte, or was it an emerging gentleman's agreement? Maxence was always one to command all he surveyed, but alas, not in the country where Calligo reigned. It was here amongst the pine needles, pete and mountain sleet that he felt more a stranger than any; even the eagles watching him from eye level appeared right at home, and while the lion was not one to quake as the sight of crows he would certainly keep his sights upon them. The coast appeared clear, so with was with a flick of his wings that the commander spilled from the mountaintop and swooped down it's side toward the forest below, soon to land in a sheltered glade; there'd be ltitle to no chance of spotting him under the cover of the trees, where as if he was caught flying into the night court he would he could likely be shot down like a duck. Gathering his wings against his sides and finding his baring with a turn of his nose across his back and then ahead in the direction of the court, maxence began on his way. |
