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Dance the warrior, the warrior
EINARR
It had been some time since Einarr was this far north, but his feathers spread on the cold winds and his lungs expanded like he was breathing here for the first time. But, despite it all, Einarr was moving with purpose. He had a promise on his tongue he was intent on keeping. The stallion, a unicorn with an abnormally long tail, was whom Einarr sought. He remembered the black and white stag fondly, recalling the conversation they shared in the frozen land seasons ago. The bloodrider had--or so he thought--pulled Ashamin from the brink of suicide, and lectured him. Little did he know, Ashamin had made well on the plans Einarr had made for him. In their time apart, Ashamin had grown as a warrior--as Einarr had told him to--and today he would find that out.
Tilting his wing to the right, Einarr let his body land in large, sweeping circles. Cloven toes found purchase in the snow and ice just a few leaps and bounds from the shoreline itself, covered dangerously in stones and rocks of all shapes and sizes. He had not realized it before he landed, but the wind was awfully cold and it was blowing quite hard. He snorted, twin white puffs of his own breath warming his nose. As he stood, with wings tucked close into his sides, Einarr wondered if Ashamin would even heed his call on a day like this Surely, the stallion would not back down from fulfilling Einarr's promise to him, but had the stag's heart grown brave enough to face these conditions locked in the throws of battle? Another snort left the stallion's nostrils before he spread his wings again, giving his appearance illusionary largeness. "ASHAMIN! Friend of snow, come face me today!" The stallion called into the bleak, half-lit landscape. He hoped that the stallion was in close enough range to hear his call. He had told the boy he would meet him for a spar after seeing him at the battle of the Sun God, and today was the day.
Warmth spread through Einarr's belly as he thought of the battle, and his body lifted on cloven toes like a boxer--light in his feet and heavy in his blows. Wings tucked again into his sides as he danced on the frozen ground, neck arching elegantly yet powerfully, muscles bulging beneath scarred, black hide. This would be Einarr's first time battling upon snow or ice, and his reddened eyes moved carefully over the terrain he had chosen. He was a desert and plain dweller by birth, and now he lived in the lush desert of the Dragon's Throat. His wings would definitely be an advantage today.
[PC: 0/3 | WC: 448 | YAY ASHANARR SPAR. Feel free to attack first! | This will be a teaching spar! | Setting: Just near the shoreline of the Frostbreathe Steppe. There is a snow and ice covering, but the rocky shoreline and lapping waters are just a few yards away (probably about 5 yards). The wind is bitter cold and howling, despite the Tallsun times. Early evening, overcast.]
@Ashamin
if you bury me, i'll bury you
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