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07-19-2012, 05:56 PM
CYSARO
From beyond the horizon appears a brightly colored stallion, with a pendant dangling from his horn and wings like a jay. Cysaro narrows his eyes and scrutinizes the stranger - he can't help but be disdainful of his bright color -though of course this is not his fault - and the glittering jewel. The Crow is not one for decoration on a warrior (and this is surely what the stranger is, he is well muscled and has the proud stance of a fighter) preferring muted colors and practicality to ornaments. If this stallion was smart, he would take off his jewel and keep his feathers coated with enough dirt to dull the blue though not enough to hinder flight.
The stallion scrutinizes him in turn, not unkindly. In broken speech he introduces himself and inquires after Cysaro's health. The sinewy black pony glances dully back at his scarred hide. "These? Old wounds. Not a cause for concern." He nods stiffly, civil but hardly warm. "I am Cysaro. I am often called Crow...by both friend and enemy." He decides to cut to the chase: "Which are you, sir? Friend or enemy? I am aware that I am standing on claimed lands, though not with any ill intention."
