the Rift


DON'T HURT YOURSELF

Graasvoel Posts: 97
World's Edge Artificier atk: 3.5 | def: 7.0 | dam: 8.0
Stallion :: Pegasus :: 17.0hh :: 6 HP: 64 | Buff: NOVICE
smitty
#5

"fear the Vulture and it will come. fear nothing and you are the Vulture."


“What is that? The pulsing feel in the soil? It rushes underhoof and surges in my body.” The words of a woman struck through the brief (if racy) reverie that the stallion’s mind had slipped into— and only because (out of context) her words were, themselves, partly racy. Raptor eyes snap open, yellow pits sharpening on the trees around him. Surges in her body? He’d gladly help her understand that.

Tufted beard swayed as he shook his head slightly to free it of dozing’s fog. It was more difficult than he anticipated— his fantasy had been quite alluring. But, slowly, his mind returned to the dark forest around him, ears perked to hear another woman’s voice floating easily through the trees.

Large, heavy hooves cloaked in dense, tangled feathers carefully carry the thick, giant of a man through the trunks. Only once does once of his massive wings scrape against rough bark, eliciting curses in his mother-tongue to come coarsely from black lips.

Yellow eyes first see a woman, nearly as tall as himself but graced with a horn on her brow like those of the Plains. Her body is powerful, stocky, and her coat is splashed with cream and ink. His appreciative gaze does not miss the bright green eyes or the jade pendant that winked from around her neck. He smiled easily at her, before turning his yellow gaze swept to the other woman.

This mare was smaller, hornless like the striped, superstitious equines of the forests. She was slender, with a night-dark coat that stretched over her sharp angles. Bright gold attracts his raptor’s gaze on both her skin, eyes, and hooves. Her gilded stare is more feral than the splashed alongside her. Though there is something in both the women’s bright stares that is uncontrolled and wild— and it’s more than enough to stir the winged stallion’s blood.

“Ladies,” his white skull dips in greeting, “I am Gaal, recently of the World’s Edge, but still new to Helovia. What beautiful women am I so lucky to meet in this forest?” His rough voice is charming, if still rugged from the wild plateaus of his birth.

- - G R A A S V O E L - -

image | table by Kiki


@Ovidius

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Messages In This Thread
DON'T HURT YOURSELF - by Ovidius - 05-03-2016, 07:22 PM
RE: DON'T HURT YOURSELF - by Daetiin - 05-03-2016, 09:01 PM
RE: DON'T HURT YOURSELF - by Ovidius - 05-05-2016, 11:49 AM
RE: DON'T HURT YOURSELF - by Daetiin - 05-30-2016, 01:53 PM
RE: DON'T HURT YOURSELF - by Graasvoel - 05-31-2016, 12:57 PM
RE: DON'T HURT YOURSELF - by Ovidius - 06-02-2016, 04:45 PM

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