| Aurora Basin Phantom atk: 7.5 | def: 10 | dam: 2.5 |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16 hh :: 8 yrs HP: 60.0 | Buff: NOVICE |
| Glo |
It was a dismal day in the Aurora Basin; colder than usual for summer, with a biting wind that tore and howled across the flats, ripping leaves from the branches of trees and casting a violent ripple across the lake as it went, leaving wintry discord in its wake. Roland had found shelter beneath the thick boughs of a fir, reluctant to make for the sanctum of the caves while the tempest raged on. A call echoed across the rocks, and at first Roland thought it was merely the voice of the wind, pleading and plaintive as it scraped across the rock and carved its way through the hollows; yet when he looked up, his gaze fell upon two figures emerging from the mountain pass. Slowly, reluctantly, he unhinged himself from the tree’s thorny side and moved to greet them, heaving a weary sigh that was quickly swept up in the northern gale.
The stallion he recognized immediately, a stalwart blood bay with a crimson crown atop his head. Roland had never learned his name, but they had both stood against the wraiths when they had entered the Basin, bringing with them their plague and shadow, taunting the valley’s denizens in their hollow, grating voices. The stallion had been infected, but Roland and the others- Mauja and a dark skinned colt- had managed to escape unharmed. The Thief repressed a grimace. He disliked being reminded of that time, when they had been forced to flee beyond their mountains and caves, into the sanctuary with its murky catacombs and mildewed halls. He had felt trapped, no fresh air to breathe and the only light being from the luminescent plants that grew sparingly amongst the corridors. The only time when he had felt liberated, while under the pressure of so much rock and earth, had been when Lena had found him. Beyond that, he had kept much to himself for the dismal weeks they had spent in hiding.
The Corporal’s companion, a mare with long flowing hair and a delicate frame, Roland did not recognize. She carried with her a myriad of scents, though none were distinctly from the Basin. A new recruit, then. There had been many new faces filtering in during the height of Tallsun. The Thief cast a welcoming nod to the dark haired stallion, an acknowledgement of familiarity even though they had never spoken. He turned to the mare last, smiling his brightest in spite of the unpleasant weather, and bowing his head. “Welcome,” he said as jovially as he could manage, raising his voice above the wind. “I am Roland, Thief of the Basin.”
He suspected she was not used to the northern climate, which Roland could sympathize with. All his childhood he had known nothing but lush, green fields and sun drenched forests. Summer was a season that lasted almost year round, with only the lightest of snows falling in the darker months. “Hopefully it’s not too cold for you,” he added with a knowing smile, shaking his forelock from his eyes as the wind tore at the cliffs.
Push your luck if it makes you a promise
that turns con men honest.
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Image Credit
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