HEROES MAY DIE
It had come as a surprise to the Friesian, when he had heard of the two open positions of Captain. He was unsure what had become of Sage, the golden Pegasus that had held the rank previously, but he was sure that it wasn't his place to ask. The great Weyrleader had decided to put a tournament in place to fill those two positions, and it was without hesitation that Destrier had risen to accept the challenge.

The black steed had seen many battles in his ten years of life. It had all started in the land of Gassul, where he had been taken away from his mother at the ripe young age of nine months, and sent off to train as a warrior amongst the other foals and those more experienced than him. It had been a terribly difficult time, learning so much while his mind and body still had so much growing to do, but starting his training at such an age had no doubtedly saved his life more than once. The battles fought in Gassul had been lesser than those in Vallhea, where he'd not only faced off against other equids, but humans as well. They, armed with their swords and other such contraptions, had been the most terrifying foe to ever go up against. If not for Bran, his trusted, beloved rider, he was certain that he would not have made it through that first battle alive.

But now, Bran was gone, and Destrier would have to fight his battles alone. Or... would he? Much had happened during his short time in Helovia; he'd met Tor, who was quick to steal his heart away, even if they still had much to learn about one another. With her, he'd become a father to twins, the colt and filly constantly on his mind as of late. With their arrival, he had been given even more reason to fight for this land.

All of this was filtering through his mind as he made his way towards the chosen battleground; a spot cleared mostly of trees, the ground level and free of any major rocks or dips that could cause one to go stumbling to the ground. Perhaps not the most exciting of terrains to face off on, but it offered the most secure of footing. Coming to a halt, the Friesian lifted his head and awaited the arrival of his opponent, Smoke. He knew little of the grullo mare, never having spoken with her, but ocassionally seeing her in passing. She was a smaller built than himself, standing a good hand or so shorter than himself, but he doubted she was anything delicate.

It was when the Wild Rose stepped forward that Destrier regarded her with respect, dipping his head with a graceful arch of his neck, a silent welcoming to the mare and a wish of luck. He knew not what the outcome of the battle would be, nor if he would advance onward in the tournament; only time would tell.

When the time felt right, Destrier made his first move in the form of a forward lunge, muscles quivering as he moved into a gallop to quickly close the gap between them. Due to his breed's heavier nature, he wouldn't be as quick to move away from an attack or come to a stop, but his blows would pack more power. Coming up beside Smoke, Destrier bent his neck to try and land a bite on the mare's slated hide, doing his best to curve after her if she tried to move away.

Word Count - 595

[[Setting - It is afternoon in the Edge, with the sun high in the sky. There is a light breeze. Footing is flat, and the area is free of trees.]]

BUT LEGENDS ENDURE