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12-31-2013, 06:10 AM
Cold water dropped from dark lips as Descaro took a long drink from the icy pool, the warm light of midday highlighting his deep mahogany coat that was draped in long, black locks. His forelock fallen over one side of his face revealing only a single brooding eye. It seemed peaceful so far, the morning had begun with his usual inner patrol of the Basin, later he would venture out onto the Steppe to check their borders were not close to being breached. Of course, he would not wander too far, it was the reason he'd gone missing after all. The Frostbreath Steppe was not a land to be trifled with, especially when one loses his bearings. Shaking his thick neck, hair flying everywhere and landing wherever it wanted, his appearance still remaining a picture of seductive handsome no matter where they fell, a strand catching onto his crystal horn. He thought about going to find Deimos, he hadn't alerted his Commander that he had indeed returned, though he really shouldn't bother the Reaper. He would apologize when he got the chance, it was expected of him to return to duty and so he had, neatly and efficiently. Descaro was about to turn and finish his duty for the day when a familiar voice caught on the air. Déodat. Descaro didn't know this soldier very well, enough to know his name and the value of his service. A distant relative of d'Artagnan, the mad healer he'd followed from Isilme, and he seemed to want the presence of the warriors. Intrigued, Descaro set off in his general direction at a brisk trot, looking around as he moved out, trying to see if he recognized any other soldiers moving towards the urgent call. Perhaps these sleepy soldiers needed something big to happen, dark and testing times could make or break warriors, the Corporal was interested to see who would answer Déodat's call. Noting he was the first to arrive to the loyal warrior's beckon, the stud quickly nodded his head and went straight to the point. "Déodat! Soldier, report! What are these dire matters our Lady speaks of?" He asked, sliding to a halt in front of the blood stallion. Waiting intently for the ruby horned to deliver the news and issue their leaders orders. Descaro |
