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Torleik
A lone man loved by none: How long can he live? He'd had enough. Bested by a band of roving trash, coerced into compliance by threat of harm to his bonded, Torleik had been strung along as a thrall of this blind buffoon's for a week. They'd been wandering through an endless forest of trees and it seemed there was no particular destination in sight. And he would suffer it no longer. He was a warrior, a freemale, and never had he been subjected to the thralldom of another. At that moment, his discussion with Faelene many seasons ago returned to his mind, her shock and displeasure with his people's practice of slavery. He had defended it, said thralls were useful, were treated like family. If this Morir had treated him like family, would it have assuaged the blow to his pride? To his selfhood? The experience of once being free and having that forcibly taken away...it made him question what he once thought to be true. The proud stallion felt cold inside, weak, shamed. Guilt that wasn't his slithered into his bond and his bearded muzzle frowned, reaching back to lightly nuzzle Irelyn's feathers, perched on his back as she was. 'It is not your fault, little one. I had to keep you safe.' Her doubt was clear, and it hurt him to think she blamed herself for this predicament. She was but a child, and still suffered from a child's egocentric nature, thinking everything that happened was because of her or involved her. It was natural, but painful in situations such as these; the child taking responsibility for the parent's misfortune. 'It is not your fault, Irelyn. Would it be my fault if someone tried to hurt me and you wanted to keep me safe?' he queried pointedly, watching her beautiful golden orbs clear with understanding. Slowly, she shook her feathered head, then hopped forward a little to rub against his face affectionately. It was good that she understood, because that very notion was about to be put to the test. 'Good girl. Now. This vile beast has separated from his friends and we are alone. I tire of being led around and we will be leaving. We are going to fight. Whatever happens is not your fault, and you must promise me you will be careful,' he said gravely, the seriousness of his words holding gravity even without being spoken aloud. Irelyn's eyes clearly reflected the uncertainty the small owl griffin felt inside, but a ruffle of her feathers gave way to a determined expression. Another nod. 'Yes, she responded simply, as best as she really could. She had more feelings to express, more thoughts in her head, but words were still mostly beyond her in this arena. A calmness settled in Torleik's chest and he silently indicated Irelyn should take to the constellation of trees that surrounded them. As half-owl, she was almost completely silent in flight. This would prove useful during this battle, even if his companion was still sorely underdeveloped for such a fight. Morir was blind and his hearing exceptional, but nature had brilliantly developed the owl to be a silent, deadly nocturnal predator: and Morir existed in a state of eternal night. Halting, the ground beneath Torleik's feet froze solid from his continual contact with it, the ice looking menacing beneath this low-ground fog that swirled around them. He'd noticed a particular feeling within over the course of the last season, a sense of...something akin to a tingle in his blood. First the ground beneath his hooves had started to bubble up with water and then freeze when he walked, and now...now he felt a rumbling inside, like a storm. Where this magic had come from the Viking didn't know, but he'd not had time to question or seek answers. And right now, the answers didn't matter. What mattered was making this hideous fool pay for his actions. "Morir!" Torleik barked, facing his opponent, anger crawling through his tone, making every muscle and sinew in his thick body taut. "I am done with your idiocy. This ends now! If you can best me in single combat, you may keep me - but I get the feeling you're nothing without your band of cowards to aid you," the Viking snarled. He widened his stance and narrowed his eyes, shifting so that he was right next to the trunk of a tree. This Morir used his ears. Torleik would use the many trees around to make it as difficult as possible for the unicorn to get a clear read or hit on him. A sneer deformed his mouth as he opened it to speak once more. "Fight me!" @[Morir] "talk talk talk" 'Mental talking' Thoughts ----------------------------------------------------------------- OOC: This is a challenge for Torleik's freedom. Setting is the Deep Forest, daybreak. Morir has 72 hours from the time of this post (1:25pm CST) to reply. Morir can attack in his first post. WC: (777) | (0/4) | Magic & Companions allowed |
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No man is an island.
Pixel by: Tamme :D
Pixel by: Tamme :D
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