EREBOS

Of all the things the little prince had seen within this world, a turtle turning them into goats was the last image he expected.

Did he mind? Hardly – there was something uniquely curious about the whole adventure, racing across mountaintops, searing through maelstroms, swinging about chaos, diving along rock piles, and avoiding the brewing enchantments of others, stumbling and grumbling in an entirely new sovereign. If his father ever asked him about some wild, wicked escapade, the scion could relinquish and unfold timeless tales of morphing into another creature and racing up a peak (and Deimos would promptly give up ever asking his son for stories again, and likely question Erebos’ sanity or vivid imagination)! He could even tell Adelric, and pretend to be charge into battle with multiple, curled horns on his head, spout untamed laughter at all of the foolish memories.

As he arrived, his eyes glanced over to the various members of their throng as their horse form was completely absconded for something truly made and sculpted for the peaks, and he searched for any of his friends: there were quite a few he recognized briefly from meetings or the Basin’s general constituents, and then a token of unfamiliar faces that soon became even more unfamiliar as they departed from the equine realm. He spotted Aithniel shortly thereafter, and thought about calling to her, yelling and shouting over the ruckus (maybe they could race together, join forces against the opposition, then battle to see who the true victor would be), but then she started to spout fire around her hooves and he wouldn’t be able to get close enough. Frowning only slightly along the fringes of disappointment, he heaved one heady sigh, then enrolled himself into the escapade. His lanky limbs ghosted over the turtle’s box, and within a few steps, he was much like the rest of them – altered and condensed into a cerulean goat (and very fond of his new beard!). Without powers of persuasion, because water-walking would do him no good over cliff tops and rock faces, the youthful beast galloped onward, making his way towards the first set of rings, clambering somewhat nearby Aithniel (hoping she’d recognize him and not burn him to a crisp in the meantime), attempting to get her attention with a familiar shake of his head and an audacious, devilish smile.