Painted in Flames [Calvariam]

Painted in Flames [Calvariam]

Murdock Posts: 198

Outcast atk: 9 | def: 10.5 | dam: 2.5

Stallion :: Pegasus :: 16.2hh :: 8 HP: 61.5 | Buff: ENDURE

Gaz

11-24-2012, 12:41 AM (This post was last modified: 11-24-2012, 10:02 PM by Murdock.)

M U R D O C K
If I go crazy then will you still call me Superman?

The morning air was heavy with frost, the skies painted pale pink and gold with the absence of stars. The sun had already begun to crown the peaks, snowy cliffs gilded with bright gold. The cloud bases had sunk low over the night, and heavy masses loomed overhead the base of the mountain. The grass was lined with frozen dew, and a fresh layer of snow coated the ground. Murdock stood at the foot of the cliff, his body sheltered from the sunlight by the long boughs of ash trees. He looked out across the meadow, the tall strands of golden grass bending slightly beneath the weight of a gentle breeze. The dawn air was frigid, and his ebony coat had not yet grown thick enough to guard against the assaulting cold. His spirits were low as he stood beneath the sheltering branches, snowy wings pressed to his sides in an attempt to conserve heat.

His breath came in misty puffs that quickly dispersed in the sub-zero air, and he watched with a sigh as the sun began to peek through a break in the clouds. There was little he enjoyed more than flying above the clouds, nothing but the vast sky and the fiery sun above you. Pacing out into the field, his hooves left shallow scuff marks in the fresh snow. Despite the cold, the world was beautifully trapped in a golden glow that announced that beginning of another day.

Unfolding his wings, Murdock stretched out his limbs, frost crackling along his feathers as they extended. A nice flight would be just the thing to raise his spirits, and warm his frozen body. Breaking into a gentle jog, he beat his wings powerfully, finally building up enough momentum to lift off the ground. He soared upwards, leaving the earth behind him. There was a certain thrill to flight; the sort of thrill that only came with lifting yourself thousands of feet off the earth to be one among the stars. The trees grew smaller below him as he rose through the barrier of cloud.

He hovered for a moment, hind legs dangling down into the damp mass of the clouds. To his left, the gentle slope of a mountain curved up through the fluffy white blanket. Turning about to face it, he spread his wings and soared effortlessly towards the dark stone. At this temperature, and with such precipitation as there had been recently, the cloud base had lingered around 2000 feet and curved low around the girth of the cliff. Atop the peak, a great expanse of meadow sloped down the face of the rock. Angling himself towards it, he let his wings slip across the air to bring him down for a landing.

He landed roughly, stumbling over his feet as he came down hard on the ground. The tall grass knotted itself about his hooves and trapped him, and he had to wrestle with the thick stalks for a moment to free himself. Looking around, he admired the sea of clouds that lay below. This meadow, so close to the paling skies, would be a perfect place to spend an idle afternoon. After all, a day of rest was just what he needed.

"speak"