M A X E N C E AN IRIDESCENT SOUL
Night had set in quickly and as the eagle-like equine stood lamenting the sun from his windy perch above the canyon's heights, he could recall what he and his comrades would be doing at this hour back at camp. If it was a crime to miss war surely Maxence would hang, because he truly thrived when he was plotting among his blood-stained brethren - and, now that he stood alone watching a desert rather than a mud and carcass filled battlefield, he felt an ache within his warm heart for his men, his comrades, the fire they would gather around and the stories they would share. It was in these vespertine hours that the falcons would be set forth across the fields, their wings carrying messages home to King and country while their ever keen eyes watched for any additional information to report at their destination. How he wished his falcon Fjord was here now; that silly old bird would find the relic in no time. Just a sweep of the rocks, one glint, and Tempus's blasted pocket watch would be found. Fjord was long gone though, and Maxence had to promptly remind himself that wishing was counter-productive. The commander was here on a mission, a task he'd set for himself - find that relic. It was as his wings flared at the ready for takeoff that a peculiar fellow crept into the canyon's shadow, moonlight nor shadow able to hide the creature for long - he breathed so loud Maxence could possibly have swooped and hit him in the dark. The creature seemed to have settle in to the rock face across the gorge, and so out of pur curiosity Maxence lowered his wings and tucked his body closer to the earth in an attempt to keep hidden. Was this man really intending to rest there? Surely there were safer places to shelter for the night. |
