The chromed had a rising feeling in his chest, a desire to become strong, to embrace the power he knew he was capable of welding, capable of applying. His life had changed drastically since when he first arrived in the lands of Helovia.  The striped had grown, prospered, created family, and most importantly, the beast had faced himself and matured. He did not throw a pity party for the demons of his past, present, future, to only haunt him with their attendance. No, the chromed had accepted his failures, accepted that he was no man of portrait or statue. He would be that man one day; it was no aspiration, no goal, but merely truth. For Miseal knew that with effort, anything could be done.

Miseal traveled from the chilled winds of the north, he hoped that the events that conspired there would be left with the frozen icicles and howling drifts. It had been an eye-opening experience for the striped stallion, the result finalizing his previous desires to become of worth. It was no longer that he would mull over her, for all that time he spent thinking about the antlered girl was wasted, all for nothing. He knew that if this had happened months ago, he would have gone on a rage and expelled his wrath upon any that neared, but now, that wasn’t him any longer. Now, the chromed just shrugged it off. That was the thing about such risks of love; one cannot predict its outcomes. Perhaps what he thought they had wasn't even love at all, perhaps it was merely the lust of companionship, the lust to be anything but alone. For loneliness was a disease, and we all thirst for a cure that only companionship can quench.  

The chromed shakes away his thoughts, beckoning his gears to slow and his mind to focus on what was at hand. With the desire to become something, Miseal had to mentally grow and physically too. There were too many who were a much better warrior then himself, and Miseal simply could not have that. It would take time, that he was aware of, but eventually he will catch up with the great fighters of Helovia, even become a great fighter as well.

His chest expanded wide as he sucked in the chilled frostfall air, inhaling all the crispness of winter mixed with the sandy dust of dunes. He let his golden gaze analyze the battlefield, for knowledge of your surroundings is a key component in winning anything. The ground was soft and maneuverable, the grains of the Dragon's Throat unaffected by the bite of Jack Frost. The only remnant of cold was in the air, a chilled wind fought against the Sun's bright and warm cast. It was quite actually a very nice and mild day, a good day to take advantage of, and that he would.

Signing, the beast prepared for his first spar, he held little expectations, for little expectations made losses less sour and rewards much sweeter. He did however, have an endless supply of determination. He wanted to win not only to be of proof to others, but most importantly, Miseal wanted to win for himself.

talk talk talk


WC: 533/800
A: 0/3
D: 0/1
Damage Sustained:
Setting: Just outside of DT, sun is shining, cold wind, and on sand. About mid-day.
Notes: Open for anyone, you can have first attack. Please do not spar with Miseal if there is a massive HP difference, I want this to be as fair as possible <3