take me home. [any herd]

the Rift

take me home. [any herd]

Ascended Helovian

Mauja the Frozen Light Posts: 1,392

Outcast atk: 6.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 7.5

Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.2 :: 14 HP: 79.5 | Buff: HUNTER

Irma :: Snowy Owl :: Terrorize & Diego :: Eurasian Eagle-Owl :: Rage Neo

06-17-2013, 08:37 AM (This post was last modified: 06-17-2013, 08:38 AM by Mauja.)

Mauja the Frostheart

I'll Never See Any Side Of Heaven

Some days he wondered what would happen if he claimed the Threshold – if he resolutely chased everyone out, gathered his followers and patrolled it like it was his home. Could he patrol it day and night, call himself the King of the Threshold, and regulate who – or what – entered Helovia? Half the Plague here, half in the north, and they had every entrance but the ocean covered.

He had a feeling the Gods wouldn't approve, though, but when he ceaselessly wove through the trees, always on the prowl, he liked to toy with the idea. He'd certainly be getting the first pick of anything that came through that way, and if they could cut off the supply of new blood for other herds...

.. shut up, Mauja, you're here for other herds.

A sigh smoked out of his black nostrils, and he lowered his head in defeat. It was a grand plan, a good idea, but did his men have the guts to keep it up? And the Pegasus would remain, they would simply fly over their heads, and.. some days, he thought it would be neat to have wings, and run hell-out for their dominance, but he doubted wings were as efficient in killing as horns. And so, he stuck to his race, clinging doggedly to old beliefs like a stubborn tick.

But still, he recruited Pegasi. There was something ironic to it, and a churlish voice drifted into his ears – someone wanting a herd to train in, obviously talking to someone. Mauja forced himself through the underbrush, wound between a few trees and found them, face to face. One dark, sandy mare, with elegant wings along her sides. The other was tall, taller even than Mauja, a rich near-black bay with a golden shoulder mark and a horn. Mauja was fairly sure he'd never met the stallion, and decided to keep his own name to himself. A hit and run for the Throat. "You could come south," he suggested as he stepped up through the snow-drifts to them – too at ease in this cold to belong on the red sands. "To the Dragon's Throat; a strong herd of warriors, led by the fierce fighter, Kri the Resolute."

He delivered it all with a straight face, that glint in his eyes, but under the surface he was grimacing. He'd never thought the day he'd recruit in her name, or praise her to strangers, would come.