Kri the Resolute
I heard the call while I was soaring along the borders, patrolling the coast to make sure no unwanted visitors were arriving from the sea. It was rare for equids to cross the ocean, but we still had to maintain our coastal borders, lest Tio hatch a plan to sneak in through the waters of our home and catch us off guard.

The contrast of red and blue reminded me wearily of Ophelia's eyes. The recent invasion my kin and I had aided her with had, frankly, been a joke. I long knew that the Foothills could not stand on their own, which might explain why their leaders came to speak to me about an alliance at each turn. Still, they had not been strong since the days of Gossamer and Indy. Even their former bitch of a leader, Svetlana, could not fight to save her skin. I admire the foolish bravery of those who had lived in the land, though. It was obvious, even as their ranks formed to face against their invaders with a shred of a chance. Our numbers and our strength were heavier, but not our hearts and courage; those were soundly equal on the field, I think. It had come down to brute muscle and not spirit.

I still will not forget their bravery.

One of the stallions who had missed out on the venture (if that battle was even something to be missed), Hector, was the one calling me forth. I smile, knowing his voice well from the time we met in the Threshold. I find it rather humorous, comical even, that the giant wishes to stand as tall as me. I may be tall in spirit, but I am far from reaching his massive height; I am well aware. I fly on light wings, a chuckle escaping my lips. I knew his meaning, but I could hardly escape the irony of the statement. I see his figure, outlined against the rich blues and reds, a strange creature at his side. I hover above him, my shadow dancing on the ground some twenty feet away from his general area, before I finally swoop down.

My wings crease, the wind pushing me from behind back downward, my wing tilting downward toward the waves suddenly to send my ass spinning right so that I am parallel with his stance, head to head, haunch to haunch. I flare up my wings but allow myself to fall diagonally, sending my body with all due speed and force toward his right side, throwing most of my weight into my hefty shoulder. Our lengths were different, for he is much larger than I, so my shoulder would likely fall short of his and the aim would be neatly around his barrel, toward the middle of his ribcage, assuming he is smart enough to move his wing clear of my speeding body. "Hello, Hector," I say, moments before I am set to crash into him. "Let us see what you are worth." As my words end, my teeth bare to nip up at his neck, trying to grab hold of his flesh, only a target for me so long as I am airborne.

Otherwise, I would just be too damned short.


[ WC: 566; PC: 1/3; Magic: 0/2; Buffs: BULK and DANCE. ]