But would I run today just to die another day
His jubilation, his celebration of homecoming and ascension, was interrupted by the battlecry of creature so foul it may have very well been borne from the depths of hell. It rent the air with fury and wildness, insanity in the way a mindless beast rages, and it caused the silver-and-grey stag to drop his hindquarters and turn his gallop into a spinning charge of instinct, sharp ears flattened and a battlecry of his own bubbling in his throat. What his eyes caught sight of was a mare of liquid starlight and night skies, a horn of glimmering beauty upon her brow, beautiful and chaotic as she rose bloodied and came crashing down upon.... something. Arluin wasted no more time gazing, muscular hind legs bulging before they launched him forward, his cloven hooves tearing up the ground as he sped towards the combat. In an instant, a single heartbeat moment, he had gone from jubilant youth to a stallion born of war.
Yet, the final cry of a defeated beast filled the air as the mare's hooves crushed the beast to the earth, and with a toss of his head (frothing that he had not witnessed the event sooner, to lend his aid), the grey stallion slowed his furious charge to a loping canter, those ears still flattened to his skull as he approached, boiling adrenaline and battle-lust ebbing to be replaced with concern for the mysterious mare. She moved strangely, as if intoxicated, her coat marred with vivid red, and his concern only mounted. His gaze flickered to the wretched beast struggling to breathe through a crushed throat, and alarm raised the hairs along his spine.
It was foul, unnatural and twisted. There were too many eyes, it's teeth too many and too long, legs jointed in more places than what was natural. It was so alien, so foreign, the only thing he could call it was 'wolf', for that was the closest thing he could come to, that his mind could grasp. It was dying, the stench of fear, blood and feces ripe on the air, a sickeningly intoxicating mix that he knew all too well, and without a further thought the young knight rose, slate hooves flashing once in the dying sunlight before they slammed home onto the abomination's skull, sweet swift mercy for the damned. He stepped away from it, dropping his head to clean off his hooves with the flat of his horn, blue eyes rolling to gaze upon the bloodied mare as she spoke, a satin ear flicking in interest.
He had remained silent out of courtesy, giving her a chance to become less disorientated, to come down from the high of battle so that he wouldn't be perceived as a threat, and when he raised his crowned skull again it was to dip into a gentle bow, chin brushing his chest, the tip of his horn pointed to the ground harmlessly. "Apologies for barging in, I had thought you perhaps needed aid." His gaze slid to the carcass, eyes crinkling in friendly amusement. "It appears I was incorrect." His gaze returned to her, absorbing her appearance once more, before his head stretched out, muzzle hovering gently over one of her wounds without touching, his concern growing. "You are injured... would you like for me to attempt to find a healer, my lady? If not, I know the basics." He withdrew, inclining his head for her choice, keeping his expression amiable, those brilliant eyes gentle, lacking the fire of war they had held but scant moments before.
Yet, the final cry of a defeated beast filled the air as the mare's hooves crushed the beast to the earth, and with a toss of his head (frothing that he had not witnessed the event sooner, to lend his aid), the grey stallion slowed his furious charge to a loping canter, those ears still flattened to his skull as he approached, boiling adrenaline and battle-lust ebbing to be replaced with concern for the mysterious mare. She moved strangely, as if intoxicated, her coat marred with vivid red, and his concern only mounted. His gaze flickered to the wretched beast struggling to breathe through a crushed throat, and alarm raised the hairs along his spine.
It was foul, unnatural and twisted. There were too many eyes, it's teeth too many and too long, legs jointed in more places than what was natural. It was so alien, so foreign, the only thing he could call it was 'wolf', for that was the closest thing he could come to, that his mind could grasp. It was dying, the stench of fear, blood and feces ripe on the air, a sickeningly intoxicating mix that he knew all too well, and without a further thought the young knight rose, slate hooves flashing once in the dying sunlight before they slammed home onto the abomination's skull, sweet swift mercy for the damned. He stepped away from it, dropping his head to clean off his hooves with the flat of his horn, blue eyes rolling to gaze upon the bloodied mare as she spoke, a satin ear flicking in interest.
He had remained silent out of courtesy, giving her a chance to become less disorientated, to come down from the high of battle so that he wouldn't be perceived as a threat, and when he raised his crowned skull again it was to dip into a gentle bow, chin brushing his chest, the tip of his horn pointed to the ground harmlessly. "Apologies for barging in, I had thought you perhaps needed aid." His gaze slid to the carcass, eyes crinkling in friendly amusement. "It appears I was incorrect." His gaze returned to her, absorbing her appearance once more, before his head stretched out, muzzle hovering gently over one of her wounds without touching, his concern growing. "You are injured... would you like for me to attempt to find a healer, my lady? If not, I know the basics." He withdrew, inclining his head for her choice, keeping his expression amiable, those brilliant eyes gentle, lacking the fire of war they had held but scant moments before.
Give up now and every fight has been in vain,
ODDMOUNTAIN
