| Outcast atk: 9 | def: 10.5 | dam: 2.5 |
| Stallion :: Pegasus :: 16.2hh :: 8 HP: 61.5 | Buff: ENDURE |
| Gaz |
Murdock looked down at the dark beach below, his body pitching downward slightly as he slowed his airspeed. The snowy plains of the Steppe were just ahead, and as he moved into the cold front he folded his wings and dropped down lower. Roughly contoured snow met his silver hooves as he landed once more upon solid ground, trotting a few paces over the icy footing before coming to a halt. He had flown north-west from the border of the Foothills, eager for a change of scenery and a chance to visit the snowy plains he loved so dearly. However, summer had melted the ice and the infinite expanse of land was now much less impressive than it had been on his last visit. Nonetheless, he turned his back toward the land and looked up to the darkening sky, clouds blotting out the afternoon sunlight and threatening the steppe with a wet snow.
Murdock truly was a herd animal at heart, as most horses were, but he couldn’t quell the feeling of adventure that had gripped him as he’d looked out over the mountains of the Foothills that morning. The leaves had begun to take on warm colours, the forests being set ablaze by the fiery hues of Orangemoon as the days once more grew longer and the air grew cooler. The invasion was weeks behind him now, and the monotonous green slopes of his new home had lost their novelty. Being around family and friends had a certain security to it, of course, and his instincts warned him against venturing off alone; however, he had tossed such prehistoric inhibitions aside in favour of a soothing stroll across the northern territories.
It had hardly taken any time to fly to the southern shores of the Steppe from the Foothills, and he doubted anyone would notice his absence if he was gone for such a short time. Orangemoon rains had begun to fall in the south, and despite all the good the precipitation did for the land, Murdock couldn’t bring himself to appreciate it. Snow, on the other hand, was something he had always loved. Turning away from the looming storm, he picked his way inland over the scattering of rocks and shrubs that poked through the melted snow. A harsh wind had picked up, and he clutched his downy wings tight against his sides and turned his face out of the wind.
The land was barren for miles around, with no hint of shelter in view. Distant mountains loomed ahead on the horizon, their dark peaks crowned with snow and low cloud. It was a bleak setting, and Murdock was beginning to regret his decision to visit the north. Perhaps he could have chosen a day when the weather was better, but this would have to do for now. Shrugging his shoulders, he pulled his head in against his chest and raised his wings slightly as a wind barrier. His mane lashed against his neck, his tail cutting into his hocks as it snapped against his skin. “What a miserable day,” he muttered sourly, glaring up at the angry sky.
Perhaps he would get lucky and stumble upon a certain dark, familiar face, but that seemed altogether unlikely given the unfavourable weather. He almost laughed at his sorry situation, thinking bitterly about the flight home and how rough the skies would be. Maybe he would be condemned to spend the night on the Steppe, curled up beneath some ledge like a lost dog. Pawing at the soft snow, he pushed it aside to reveal the frozen ground below. A few sprigs of browned grass were folded overtop one another, their withered stalks frozen to the dark earth. Murdock glared at the grass, kicking snow back over the vegetation before setting off once more across the Steppe. How did anyone survive out here?
"talk talk talk"
Wind me up, put me down
Start me off and watch me go
|
|
Image Credit
|
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
⇒
[O] Blood Stains on the Snow [Snö, Open]
