World at Large

[PRIVATE] World at Large

Rohan Posts: 132

Outcast atk: 4 | def: 8.5 | dam: 7.5

Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.0 :: 8 years HP: 66 | Buff: NOVICE

Éomer :: White-tailed Eagle :: Scream Reli

06-11-2015, 10:59 PM

     Rohan

    It would seem that the Warlander has been built for this season.

    The initial cold of Frostfall had begun to cut through his skin, thickening his tiger-striped coat and condensing the already thick dark hair that lines his legs and underbelly. He appears more like a Friesian now more than ever, a true beast of hair and strength, nearly draft-like if it were not for the leanness of his body. Travel-hardened muscles move over bone as he saunters forward at an extended walk, the density of his coat unable to completely hide the surge and fell of movement beneath his skin.

    Arching his thick neck, Rohan exhales heavily from his nostrils—his warm breath curling in swirling wisps into the air. He roams freely, with no particular destination in mind. Helovia is a blank map to him—untouched and open to new discoveries. He had wandered from the borders of World’s Edge not long ago, seeking to mull over his thoughts more generously, without the gazes of his hosts burning his back.

    Eventually he takes note of the change in scenery—the trees, once impossibly thick and fertile with growth despite the chill of Frostfall, are now beginning to thin slightly. With his green eyes narrowing, Rohan’s gait hesitates a step, nostrils flaring as he observes the scent of something unfamiliar…something ancient. Tilting his head to the side, he continues forward, curious when he stumbles across some primordial structure. “What strange architecture,” he ponders to himself when inspecting the rotunda more closely. He steps onto the circular piece of stone, lowering his head to sniff inquisitively at the pavilion’s floor.

    Through the curiosity of his exploration, something manages to grasp his attention—movement. Flicking the length of his tail, Rohan shifts his weight just enough to peer through the primordial pillars, catching a glimpse of some golden figure through the seeping curtains that flow from the rotunda’s canopy. With his interest awakened, the Warlander steps out of the structure’s shadows, careful to keep out of the stranger’s eye as he returns to the dimness of the trees, his gaze lingering on the mare as he moves.

    She is not quite like anything he has seen before. Her coat is gold, far more brilliant than his own, and vibrant against the white canvas of winter—almost as if the sun itself has gilded her with its glowing light. Promptly deciding that such a beauty must not go without his acquaintance, the antlered stallion breaks from the staggered line of trees, his pace measured and confident.

    “And I thought this ancient pavilion would be the prettiest thing I would set my eyes on today,” his deep voice swells through the frigid air, the warmth of his broad tones pushing away the frosty wafts of winter rather than cutting through them. He approaches the horned mare from the side, his large body perpendicular to hers. “Sometimes…” he muses as he draws to a halt, his voice almost for himself, “I do enjoy being proved wrong.” Brown lips twist into a crooked smirk, fluted ears tilting forward as his bright eyes settle on her pretty face.

    notes; you're good!
    tag; @[Rexanna]
    “Speech.”