Trust me, you are nothing but another weak animal minding the strongest whip
The giant called these canyons, these cracked clay walls, home more so than he did the Court itself - for it was here that he was unknowingly thrust into a world he would not recognize. Not that such a predicament was what he wanted, but fate really cared little for the petty wants of its puppets, didn't it?
Traveling through this place brought sour memories that he dutifully pushed to the back of his mind. Large hooves took him on a slow amble through the weaving dips between the rock walls, along the well-worn and compacted paths that many of the Solterrans had tread day after day. Elatus was the mid-way between the desolation of the Mors and the thriving, bustling town of the Court itself... a peaceful inbetween.
Or, like today, sometimes not terribly peaceful.
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Ombre ears twitched at the cackle, and one rolled forward at the masculine bellow that rang through the canyon walls. He crested around the corner of the stone divide that lead up to the peak of the Canyon. As he did, slowly his head and crimson gaze turned to regard the large sooty stallion that had found perch at the edge of the Canyon. From a distance, Tor could tell he was tall (although if this wandering man rivaled Tor himself, he couldn't tell) - Solterra truly attracted giants, did it not?
The wanderer was loud, and sounded truly self-assured, which brought a chuckle to the Warden's lips. While Tor was far from being a native, he had taken the time to learn something of the land - enough to have been told of, heard of, and read about the Davke enough to know that they were all but wiped out by Zolin.
And so here he was (although this wasn't the first time), saddled with the task of being a bearer of bad news. "Unfortunately," the Warden started, his paces coming to a halt as he stood roughly 20 feet behind the other stallion. "It seems most of the Davke were wiped out by one of Solterra's previous sovereigns, named Zolin."
Gaze regarded the stallion's stature briefly. Large, hide scarred and sooty gray, unkempt as if he had just traversed the Mors (and he very well might have), with necklaces of teeth and claws. An ombre ear of his own flopped lazily forward, and his head tilted ever so slightly. "I'm Tor, Warden of Solterra" he trailed off, always bad at introductions. "You go by Alaric, you said?"
Traveling through this place brought sour memories that he dutifully pushed to the back of his mind. Large hooves took him on a slow amble through the weaving dips between the rock walls, along the well-worn and compacted paths that many of the Solterrans had tread day after day. Elatus was the mid-way between the desolation of the Mors and the thriving, bustling town of the Court itself... a peaceful inbetween.
Or, like today, sometimes not terribly peaceful.
Ombre ears twitched at the cackle, and one rolled forward at the masculine bellow that rang through the canyon walls. He crested around the corner of the stone divide that lead up to the peak of the Canyon. As he did, slowly his head and crimson gaze turned to regard the large sooty stallion that had found perch at the edge of the Canyon. From a distance, Tor could tell he was tall (although if this wandering man rivaled Tor himself, he couldn't tell) - Solterra truly attracted giants, did it not?
The wanderer was loud, and sounded truly self-assured, which brought a chuckle to the Warden's lips. While Tor was far from being a native, he had taken the time to learn something of the land - enough to have been told of, heard of, and read about the Davke enough to know that they were all but wiped out by Zolin.
And so here he was (although this wasn't the first time), saddled with the task of being a bearer of bad news. "Unfortunately," the Warden started, his paces coming to a halt as he stood roughly 20 feet behind the other stallion. "It seems most of the Davke were wiped out by one of Solterra's previous sovereigns, named Zolin."
Gaze regarded the stallion's stature briefly. Large, hide scarred and sooty gray, unkempt as if he had just traversed the Mors (and he very well might have), with necklaces of teeth and claws. An ombre ear of his own flopped lazily forward, and his head tilted ever so slightly. "I'm Tor, Warden of Solterra" he trailed off, always bad at introductions. "You go by Alaric, you said?"
[ please tag @Torstein in all replies ]
I have three eyes
TWO TO LOOK ONE TO SEE
