I’ll walk through fire to save my life

This particular morning has started like any other day—uneventful, slow, routine. Following the monotonous path of his duties, the large stallion patrols the Edge’s borders, pale hooves cutting through the grasses while his eyes roam lazily through the trees. Unlike the fantastical thoughts of adventure and mischief that swell within his roguish mind, the Warlander doesn’t expect anything remarkable to happen. Hesitating in his gait for a moment, he looks out across the Edge’s bounds and into Helovia’s wilds, nostrils curling in a passing sigh of nostalgia.

So caught up in the humdrum of his daily routine, the stallion doesn’t notice the shift at first. The air grows still and heavy—like a held breath, caught in anticipation of something terrible—the cold fingers reaching through his thick hair to his skin, making his spine crawl. Gritting his teeth against an involuntary shiver, Rohan turns, shaking his head—only to freeze.

His muscles are suddenly numb, large body seized momentarily in something between shock and confusion. The sky, clear and luminous only seconds before, is now clogged with angry black clouds, stormy almost, as if they have a mind of their own. It is the deep rumbling that finally jars the Warlander from his daze, large hooves thrusting him forward as the ground vibrates beneath him, guiding him towards its source. Dark-rimmed ears are flattened against the back of his neck, the long strands of his forelock thrown back by the wind and tangling in the tines of his antlers, the fleshy skin of his nostrils quivering with every heaving, measured breath.

It is his warrior’s heart that fuels him, igniting a fire through his veins, adrenaline sweetening the taste of battle. He will fight and he will protect.

Cutting through bramble and low-hanging branches, Rohan bursts into the scene just as the dreadful creature speaks. “Holy hell,” he mutters, narrowing his eyes and scowling. Taking a quick sweep of those gathered, he notes a few familiar faces (is that Tembovu as an elephant?) before settling on eyes far brighter and more vibrant than his will ever be. “Alysanne,” he calls to the pegasus, leaping to her shoulder and angling himself protectively between her and the shadowy beast, “What’s happening? What the hell is that thing?” Rohan only half expects an answer from the mare, as the majority of his attention is swallowed by whatever creature threatens their herd.

Bowing his neck, the stallion brandishes his large antlers towards the thicket, squaring his shoulders and scowling into what he assumes is the beast’s eyes (a general direction, anyway). And here he thought this would be like any other unremarkable day; funny how the gods love to play with them like puppets. “Enjoying this, Moony?” He growls to himself, exhaling in a snarl.

notes; Speaks directly to @Alysanne <33
“Speech.”