HEROES MAY DIE

It had been another day of duties for the Friesian, fulfulling his role as Protector to the World's Edge. More often than not, his scouting went without interuption, but he supposed that was a good thing. Was it the sight of his massive, towering form that sent intruders away, or were they simply smarter than to try and infiltrate the borders of his homeland? It could be a mixture of both, he knew, but then again, maybe... there just wasn't anyone trying to sneak in to begin with. And that was fine with him.

But the black brute's curiousity had him wondering today; what lie beyond the trees, past what his dark eyes could see? He explored Helovia as often as he could, yes, but he had never ventured off for the simple sake of finding others. Friend or foe, he was certain others lurked in the shade of the towering oaks and pines, hidden away in the crevices of the land.

Knowing that his young children were safe at home with their mother, Destrier turned and headed off away from the Edge, intent on getting lost in his daily adventure. There was no telling what he would find today, and that thrill alone urged him into a canter of liquid motion that carried him away from his home, his ever-growing mess of a mane dancing in the wind.

Not long into his carefree display did a shrill call ring out, seeming to reverberate through the grand forest he was quickly approaching. It was enough to draw the Friesian to a stop, ears flickering as he listened for any other such noise. There was none, no returning call, no sudden scream of pain that told him somebody was under attack. In fact, the whinny had sounded welcoming, beckoning any and all to come forth. While highly curious, Destrier kept his wits about him, and knew that it would be foolish to rush in without another thought. So with caution, the draft picked up his feet again and made his way into the thick forest that lay southeast of the Edge, and kept himself alert.

It took little time to find the culprit, for his voice was loud and clear for all to hear within it's vicinity. Destrier came to a stop a good distance back, his black form hidden mostly by the thick of a tree as he looked on. Whoever this was, talking and going on about taking over the Dragon's Throat... This nameless stallion, tawny in color with a few white stripes lining his sides, seemed quite adamant with his goal to take over.

Destrier was not one to judge a book by its cover, not at all, but if this stallion thought he could truly win his battle, he would need to gather an entire army. For not only would he be fighting the ranks of the Dragon's Throat, but the Foothills, and the World's Edge as well. The three lands held an alliance, last he knew, and if it came to be so, he would stand and fight against this stallion in an effort to deter him. Standing in his cover, his ears tipped back slightly, and he turned to make his exit before any attention was brought to him.

BUT LEGENDS ENDURE